Under the Love of a Rose
by WriteYourDreamsTheyWillCome
Summary: Sequel to Within the Roses and Thorns.
1. Chapter 1

Life couldn't be better. The sun was shining, it was Friday morning, Jason had made it through the battery of medical appointments yesterday, and she would be Mrs. Jason Port in a few months. It was like living on Cloud Nine. Ah, bliss.

She unhooked Prince from his leash as Pete shut the front door. The sweet scent of fresh blueberry muffins wafted from the kitchen. Prince raised his nose, his tail whipping, and skipped greeting Jason this morning to head straight for the kitchen.

Pete took the leash and her purse to hang in the closet. "Trudy has been practicing her baking nonstop since you and Dr. Port announced your engagement on Monday." He shook his head. "She is convinced she can make your bridal shower cake herself." Then he whispered behind his hand, "If you value your life, you won't swallow anything she bakes."

She smiled. "Pete, she is a phenomenal cook. Her cookies for his birthday were...good." Good if one enjoyed the taste of baking soda.

He shuddered. "Dr. Port needs to put an end to her enthusiasm before we all die of indigestion."

Trudy came trotting out of the kitchen, her apron covered in as much flour as the rest of her. The cheery womn carried a muffin in each hand, and Prince trotted at her feet with his eyes up, prepared to catch any casualty before it reached the floor. "Married life will agree with you, don'tcha know. You shine prettier than a seashell each day. Look at the glow in her cheeks, Pete." Trudy smiled and shoved a muffin at each of them. "Try. They are my best yet." Then the woman folded her hands and waited expectantly, her face glowing with pride.

With a sideways glance at Pete, who looked terrified of the muffin in his hand, she took a small bite. And smothered a gag reflex. Far too much flour. The muffin crumbled in her mouth like sawdust. She forced a smile. "Mmm. Getting better," she said around the lump forming into paste in her mouth.

Trudy clapped her hands together in excitement and flounced out to the kitchen.

She spit it back on top of the muffin and grabbed Pete's muffin. Opening the front door, she threw them as far as possible into the woods. Prince shot out the door after them. She turned around to meet Pete's scowl.

"Good. Now she'll think we ate them." He pointed a finger at her. "You are an enabler. I told her to get a different task for the bridal shower. Like blowing up balloons."

She held up her hands. "What was I going to say? She wanted so much to make the cake for it. I told her we can buy one and she can decorate it, but she wants to do it herself. You're a baker, you go teach her how to do it."

He shook his head and stepped back. "Oh no. I tried on Tuesday. She ruined my recipe. I told her I'm not going to be in that kitchen if she's going to murder a culinary masterpiece."

Prince came trotting back in, shaking his head and snorting. He dropped his haunches and flicked his tongue over his nose over and over. The poor thing had pasty muffins all over his snout. Then he started pawing at his face and rubbing it on the floor.

Pete laughed. "Even he won't eat it! You can't make us suffer the next how many months until the bridal shower. Please tell me you plan on getting married tomorrow."

She smiled and shook her head. "We haven't discussed a date yet."

"Who wants to try my brownies?" Trudy called from the kitchen.

Pete looked at her with wide eyes. He ran for the front door and she ran for Jason's office. Poor Prince, ever hopeful, ran for the kitchen.

His office door was cracked open, and he sat at the desk in a suit with a look of intense concentration as he read a document. On the wall to the left of his desk, he'd already hung up his birthday present - her oil color drawing of a red rose. She smiled and stopped on the other side of the desk, but he still didn't look up. It would be rude to interrupt when he seemed so enveloped in his reading, so she sat in the plush chair across from his desk.

He seemed to grow more handsome each day. Those long black lashes swept down over his vibrant blue eye as he scanned the page. Why did men always get the beautiful lashes and thick hair? He blindly reached for a pen beside him with a beautiful, vein chisled hand. His suit pulled tight across his broad shoulders. Goodness, he could make her heart flutter. He'd taken to wearing the plastic mask more often than not since she'd mentioned weeks ago that the ski mask tended to startle her. She should ask him about that because he'd said on her birthday that the mask was uncomfortable.

With a sigh of frustration, he flipped the page and shook his head. Then he tossed down the pen and leaned back in the chair. And startled when his eye landed on her.

"Sorry." She smiled and got up.

He glanced at his watch and stood. "Time must've gotten away from me. Morning, sweetheart." He met her at the side of the desk with a smile and kiss.

"Hi. You looked frustrated. Do you need help?" She slipped her arms around his trim waist.

He sighed and shook his head. "I received a letter from the government regarding the patent. They want paperwork that was already submitted. It's just a headache."

"Let me know if you want help." Then she held her hand out behind his back, turning it this way and that. The engagement ring glittered in the sunlight.

He looked over his shoulder and cracked a smile. "You like the ring, I presume?"

She beamed. This smiling really needed to stop soon before her cheeks fell off. But even the aching of sore muscles couldn't damper the joy. "It's beautiful. I sent a picture to Andy when I asked her to be my matron of honor. She called me on the phone screaming," she laughed.

"Andy is the matron of honor?" The man did well to suppress his uncertainty about the wisdom in that.

"Yes. She's a bit...crazy sometimes, but she's always been there when I needed her. We were inseparable as kids. And I'm godmother to one of her kids." She smiled at his concerned look. "It's alright. She loves planning weddings and is actually good about giving in to what the couple wants. She'll be a help, you'll see."

"As long as she's not causing trouble like when she thought it'd be good to take you to a bar to pick up men..."

A laugh escaped her. "It worked, didn't it?" She patted his shoulder.

Trudy knocked and stepped into the room with a full plate. "I have some blueberries and brownies, don'tcha know. Ms. Hoplin said I'm getting better. As good as a French baker in a stew I'll be in time for the bridal shower, don'tcha know."

Jason smiled. "It smells divine, Ms. Van Hoodie. Your skill will only improve with time." He took the plate from Trudy and set it on the desk.

She tried to catch his eye without Trudy noticing, but he didn't look as he broke off a tiny piece of the muffin and slipped it past his lips. Biting her lip, she winced for him.

His face contorted for a moment before he could smooth it over. "Have you tried them?" he asked Trudy.

"No." Trudy beamed. "I worked hard on this one, so I wanted to see how you all like it first."

She smothered a laugh behind her hand when his mouth seemed to stick together.

He raised his eyebrow and forced a smile. His eye kept darting to the glass of water and straw on his desk.

Trudy practically giggled with delight and trotted out.

The moment the woman exited, he dove for the water and took a long sip through the straw. "Dear god in heaven, how did you eat that?" He pulled open his desk and grabbed a wad of napkins. "Turn away for a moment, Em. This requires a real drink."

She laughed and turned away. His mask clanked on the desk. "I threw mine into the woods."

"Mm." He swallowed and his speech came out slightly impaired from even the bandage being removed. "You will go tell her there's no way in hell she's serving that. Alright, the mask is back on."

She whipped around and touched her chest. "Me?"

With an eyebrow touching the sky, he nodded. "I certainly didn't tell her she could be the baker. You can go break it to her."

She frowned. "Jay, she might get better. It's at least a year off until the shower. She can't possibly _not_ improve. It'd break her heart."

"Don't give me those big green eyes." He sat at the desk. "I'm done being the guinea pig. If you want her to keep trying, you're in charge of being the taste tester."

She sighed. "Whimp."

Picking up a pen, he shook his head. "It's self-induced torture. I'd rather not have my innards solidified for the wedding. And tell her I expect to not find my bride suffering from food poisoning as a result of this mess you two are getting into. Put a little fear of God into the woman," he muttered and resumed his work.

His bride. Her heart melted. She smiled and leaned her elbows down on the desk beside him. "Are you being protective, Jay?"

He started writing, his eye on the paper. "I'm always protective. And I'm serious - tell her that I said you'd better not get sick. The woman will probably start meddling with flan or something undercooked again."

Forcing a frown, she saluted. "Yes, sir," she teased. The man seemed a bit cranky.

"Don't lean down in that shirt in front of men, sweetheart." His eye remained on his writing.

She frowned and glanced down. And shot up just as fast with a burning face. "Sorry."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'd show you how much I didn't mind the accidental view...if indigestion wasn't threatening me." He gave her a dry look from beneath his strong brow.

She sighed, her face still hot. "Fine, I'll talk to her. But if she cries, I'm telling her it's your fault."

"Fine." Then he returned to his work, but his voice was softer. "There's no point in being embarrassed, Emma. It was only me who got a glimpse of your undergarment, and you breasts were covered. I have every intention of being more familiar with your body than that once we wed." He picked up a different piece of paper for a moment and scanned it.

Oh goodness. Now the flush really did spread, and not only across her face. Goosebumps skittered over her skin as an image formed of his hands caressing over her body. He'd be gentle and so tenderly careful to not frighten her on the honeymoon. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned to let him work in peace, biting her lip with a smile. Within a year or so she'd be married to the most wonderful man in the world. Within a year of that, he'd probably have her pregnant. Goodness, any more happiness and she'd probably burst today.

"Emma?"

She turned near the door

He looked her straight in the eye. "Forgive me, I'm in ill humor this morning and didn't intend to sound crass or disrespectful. I mean it that I don't wish for you to ever feel embarrassed about me seeing your body."

Even in a foul mood he could sweep her off her feet. Her heart melted and warmth flooded through her chest. "It never occurred to me that you would be crass or disrespectful, Jay," she said, her voice soft from shyness and his sweet, unnecessary apology. "And, Jason? I love you."

That lifted a little of the stress from his shoulders. "I love you too, sweetheart."

She headed for her office. At lunch she could help teach Trudy how to bake a cake. How the woman could be an extraordinary cook but not a good baker made no sense. THere'd be no need to break Trudy's heart about not making the cake - she and Pete would get dear Trudy good enough for a baking TV show by the time the bridal shower came. Perhaps best to keep some indigestion meds on hand until then, though. A bounce slipped into her step. Life was good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: That was exciting to get four reviews for the first chapter! Thanks, YazminXD, Singingsilent, MissSparrow, and JustAStranger. Thanks for reviewing every chapter of the series, YazminXD!**

 **I only note what song I listen to if I really get into the scene using that song - I listened to Fire n Gold for the end scene. :)**

* * *

During her lunch break, she stood beside Trudy in the kitchen, not having the heart to break the news that even Prince wouldn't eat the baked goodies from this morning. The wise dog had taken to wandering between her office and Jason's to nap, abandoning the kitchen altogether. The poor thing seemed depressed that he'd lost his beloved breakfasts of pancakes and sausage now that Trudy had taken over baking in the kitchen.

"Now it says two cups of flour." She ran her finger along the line of the wedding cookbook as Trudy grabbed the cup. "Is this a new book? I haven't seen this one before." A smile tugged. Trudy was already in full wedding mode.

"No, Dr. Port gave it to me last night. He usually brings me flowers back after he travels - that I like to put in the hall. He said he meant to bring me some from New York but was too enraptured with your beauty to remember." Trudy smiled, seeming so excited about him marrying.

Jason strolled into the kitchen with an empty water glass and stopped in his tracks when his eye fell on Trudy baking again. He muttered something to himself in a foreign language and made the sign of the cross before continuing to the sink.

She smiled and shook her head at his dramatics. Trudy lifted a heaping cup of flour over the bowl. "No!" Grabbing Trudy's wrist, she stopped it just in time. "You have to level it off, Trudy. Everything must be exact or it won't taste good. This is just like cooking."

Jason coughed to suppress a laugh and leaned a hip against the sink behind them, apparently ready to be entertained. He sipped from the straw, amusement in his eye. He had his head cocked to the right, as if to hear them. Hm.

"Jesus save me, you almost gave me a heart attack, don'tcha know. I never used a recipe in my life to cook. It's all taste." Trudy shook her head. "Is that why you had indigestion last night, sir?" Trudy glanced over a shoulder at him and then looked at her. "The poor dear and Pete got as sick as dogs last night when I had them try my souffle after they got back from taking you home."

"Ms. Van Hoodie!" he snapped, his face beat red.

She startled just as hard as Trudy over his loud volume.

He straightened. "For heaven's sake, she doesn't need to know the details."

The poor man. That's why he was so against Trudy baking - he'd already gotten food poisoning. She frowned in concern. "Are you feeling alright today?"

He grunted and walked out, his face still red with embarrassment.

Trudy looked up at her with wide eyes. "Golly gee me, I shouldn't have said that. He was up half the night from being ill and just isn't himself. Wouldn't let me tend to him, just to Pete. Jesus whispered in my ear that I should've kept my yapper shut, but I let the Devil tempt me. Go check that I haven't spoiled a fish in vinegar. He could use a bit of fussing over, don'tcha know. Menfolk are a bit like children when they're unwell and need babying. He's stubborn and resists, though."

"Oh dear." Being ill all night explained his surliness and why he kept sipping on water. But she looked from Trudy to the doorway. Leaving Trudy alone with the recipe might be dangerous.

"Go on. We can finish after your work. He tries to tough everything out himself, don'tcha know. A soft hand would do him good."

"Thank you," she smiled at the sweet woman, whose concern for Jason never disappointed.

He sat at his desk typing on the laptop and glanced over it when she walked in. Prince laid beside the desk. The dog had been unusually devoted to Jason this afternoon, as if something was wrong.

"Have you had anything to eat today? I can make you broth or - "

His jaw muscle flexed with impatience as he glared at the screen. "I don't need coddling. I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself." He still spoke a bit loud.

A bit of a defensive response - defensive about his capabilities. She frowned and walked over to stand beside him, keeping her voice calm. "I didn't say you can't feed yourself, Jason." Leaning back against the desk, she searched his face. Tension crinkled the corner of his eye as he worked. "Perhaps Trudy and Pete believe you're in a bad mood from being up late, but I don't." She leaned down on her elbows beside him and searched his face on her right. "You told me that everything at the appointments went well. What really happened?"

He leaned his elbows on the desk, running his hands through his hair and then locking them behind his head. His gaze zeroed in on the desk, and he seemed suddenly sad. "I get stressed waiting for the scan results. Lung and esophageal cancers are some of the most aggressive types. The physician called this morning and said that he had me bumped to the top of the radiologist's list because he was concerned I had lung cancer being I had pneumonia and then several asthma attacks. The scan came back clean today." Then he fell silent for a few seconds. "I hate this, Emma." His shoulders slumped with hopelessness. "It feels like it never ends," he said, his voice a bit softer.

It had been such a hard year for him physically already. "Hey," she said in soft tones and laid an arm over his shoulders. "That's good it's negative, honey. Don't get disheartened now. The hardest part is done." She rubbed his arm. "It was a massive physical exam, and it all turned out fine. You're good to go for awhile. Perhaps your share of medical problems is done now for a long time." She smiled and rubbed his cheek with her finger. "That's something to smile about, Jay."

He didn't speak for a moment. "I have no right to complain, Emma - "

Her smile faded. The doctors had found something, and he hadn't wanted to admit it. "You don't even know the meaning of the word, Jason. Tell me what happened." She swallowed hard. The fact that he was ashamed to be upset too...her heart constricted. He tried to shoulder so much on his own.

His volume lowered a bit. "When the beam crushed my skull, it collapsed my ear canal. Canalplasty was done to reconstruct it as much as possible. My ear drum had blistered from the fire, so my hearing was impared." He sat back in the chair, his eye still on the desk. "The hearing loss has been so gradual the past month that I attributed it to the mask muffling sound. The facial nerve was damaged in the fire, so I haven't felt any pain - I have a severe middle ear infection that the otolaryngologist thinks is damaging the middle ear bones."

She blinked. And then her heart shot into her throat. "Wait, you're going deaf in that ear? Can't he do surgery to clear it out before it does permanent damage - "

He slowly shook his head. "There's too much risk of meningitis to operate while infected. He gave I.V. antibiotics in the office yesterday, and I'm on ear drops and oral antibotics now in case it is spreading deeper in the ear. My ear has been ringing the past couple hours, so I called him. He said it's likely one of the bones breaking. As soon as it snaps, which might take a few hours, the ringing will stop."

She stroked his back. "You could only hear low tones out of it before, so perhaps full deafness won't require much adjustment until we can get back in to the doctor. We'll figure out if there's some kind of surgery or hearing aid to bring your hearing back."

He looked so heartbroken. "Once the bone breaks, the vibrations will be gone too. A cochlear implant would likely return the hearing completely, but if I get it, I can't get scans anymore. I think I'd rather have cancer caught early than have bilateral hearing." Then he sat back, his eye downcast with shame. "It doesn't even matter if a device will fix it. I was terminated from the SEALS."

Her stomach dropped. This is what had him so solemn. SEALS was the last thing the fire hadn't stolen of his previous life, the one thing that still gave him so much pride to be able to do. With the SEALS, he excelled physically in endurance and strength and could forget about the burns. Anger rose up. They couldn't do this to him. "But, they let you remain on volunteer call with your eye and asthma. How is this different? You're retired. They can't terminate you from volunteering!"

His gaze dropped to his lap, the shame weighing down his shoulders. "My captain bent the rules. I should've only been in BUDS, a bit like a boot camp officer." His fingers fidgeted with the chair arm. "This is a disability that can't be compensated for, like I could most of the time with my eye, he said."

He walked over to the window to stare out, folding his arms over his chest and bracing his feet apart. He was the image of a man struggling to hold onto his dignity and pride. "Single-sided deafness is too much of a 'disability.' The official phone call came at seven o'clock this morning. Termination was effective immediately and all communication was ceased." Then his voice fell, "I was too ashamed to tell you, Emma."

Her face crumpled and grief constricted in her chest. "Ashamed? Jason, this isn't your fault. THere's nothing to be ashamed of," she sniffled. Just like that they threw him away once he was no good to them anymore. Being a SEAL made him feel useful and needed. Being able to keep up with the physically elite helped him forget about not fitting in - it was an area where people could look up to him instead of pity him. The children's foundation mostly functioned on its own without him; there were no more research trials at the moment that needed him; and the patent was pretty much done...the timing couldn't be worse. Now he might feel worthless. He was just starting to come out of his shell, and now they had officially labeled him as disabled. Didn't they understand how hard it would be for anyone, much less a highly physically conditioned SEAL to swallow that label? It broke her heart to see him too ashamed to turn around. She opened her mouth, but he continued.

"I wish it had been the asthma as the reason for termination," he said quietly, as if he hadn't heard her. "My captain said that on the upside, I can start claiming disability pension with the government now." He tried to force a laugh, but it came out more like choked heartbreak.

She raised her voice a bit in case the ringing interfered with his hearing. "Jason, I'm so sorry. I know how much it meant to you to still serve." She walked over and set a hand on his broad back, looking up at his profile that was so serious and powerful. "You did a lot of service and saved a lot of lives, not just while serving overseas. You didn't need to wear kevlar and carry a gun to do the rescues you did in the fire or here on the mountain. Those were done by a man full of confidence and bravery and compassion. You've done those as a civilian, Jason. SEALS didn't give you any extra manpower or equipment. Those were all you."

His eye shifted to her. Pain radiated. He hurt so much.

Stepping in front of him, she laid her hands on his forearm, willing him to not shut down. "You rescued me from my car going over the cliff. _You_ did. But you don't need to do huge rescues to be important. I need you, and Trudy and Pete need you. The children we're going to have will need you. All the people you haven't helped yet need you. Even when we're a hundred years old and too crippled to move, you'll still be my hero." She stroked his cheek.

His eye hardened a little, as if to protect his heart. "Aren't you going to tell me I'm not disabled?"

Legally he was, and he knew it. Lying would only make him pull away. Holding back the tears, she met his eye. "A label only has the boundaries you allow it to put on you."

Swallowing hard, his arms unfurled and slipped around her. He rested his cheek atop her head. "Emma, what would I do without you?" he whispered. Simply holding her seemed to give him comfort. After several minutes of silence, he said with such sadness, "The ringing is fading." Fading because the bone was almost completely broken. He cradled the back of her head in his hand and buried his face in her hair.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she held him tight. Her heart pounded, practically making her crawl out of her skin over the helplessness. There was nothing to do for him but wait for the deafness to come. It wasn't just grief for the deafness but also for another physical difference separating him from the world, another hardship for him to bear. And she couldn't do anything to protect him from it.

His arms tightened and he held fistfuls of her shirt, as if suddenly needing strength. The world must've just gone silent in that ear.

Her face crumpled, and she buried her face against his neck. He needed her to be strong. Swallowing hard, she pressed her cheek against his. "I'm right here," she whispered and stroked his hair. "It's alright. We'll get through it together, love."

He holed up in his office the rest of the day. At dinnertime, she carried in a tray to his office while Trudy vaccumed in the other room. He still hadn't said a word since this afternoon, according to Trudy, who wasn't aware of his hearing loss. She'd left him alone, sensing his need to lick his pride in peace.

She set down the tray on the opposite side of the desk. "Here's dinner, honey. Do you have much work left? It's six o'clock." Perhaps they could spend the evening together so he'd know he had her support, even if they didn't talk about it. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to watch a movie - " She looked up at him and stopped mid-sentence.

His brow furrowed and eye narrowed on her mouth in concentration. He dropped his eye back to the screen when she looked, like he tried to avoid being caught.

"Jay, are you having trouble hearing out of your other ear?" She frowned but remained on the other side of the desk. It would be a delicate line to walk the coming days in not smothering him but not making him feel alone in this either.

"I have a lot of work to do," he said without looking up, his voice terse and a little loud.

"Oh." She bit her lip. He kept typing. This wasn't like him to try to dismiss her like this. "Would you like me to stay tonight? Not to baby you but because I want to be here in case you have trouble sleeping and decide you want to talk."

He didn't even look up. After a moment, he glanced up expectantly. He hadn't heard her.

As she repeated herself, Trudy walked past the room with the vaccum running. His eye squinted a bit and zeroed in on her mouth. A look of panic flashed across his face. He didn't know what she was saying and wasn't about to admit it.

With a silent sigh of frustration over his stubbornness, she walked over to the door and shut it before returning. She repeated herself again, her voice a little louder this time.

With a shake of his head, he glanced at his watch. "I'll be busy the rest of the night." He stood and headed for the door, not offering to escort her, unlike usual. "Let's get you home." When he opened the door for her but she stayed across the room, he frowned.

She raised her chin. This might not be wise to push, but it might be even less wise not to. "No."

He glowered and only his hand moved to slam the door shut.

Oh dear. This would be a battle to get him to take down the wall.

"What do you mean 'no'?" He retraced his steps with a heavy foot and scowled, stopping just inches from her.

Looking up, she met his icy glare. "I mean 'no.' You're upset. I know you. Right now you're trying to push everyone away, but in a bit the wall will fall away and you're going to be hurting. If you get that wall built back up by morning, it'll be days before you'll let me in. If I have to be stubborn for your own good, so be it. I'm not walking out that door tonight and making you feel like I'm leaving you in this alone. I'm staying tonight."

"I had to relearn how to speak and eat again without you," he hissed, so cold and hard.

That barb hit exactly where intended, but she barely flinched. He wanted her to run because he was scared. Emotions from when he'd lost everything in the fire and then Carolyn had run had to be surfacing. He shoved her away because that's what he knew.

"I already lost hearing half of sounds. I don't need you to hold my hand through something so trivial." His eye bore in.

She didn't waiver. "This isn't about just the deafness, and you know it. You lost a part of your life that you loved, and the way they went about making you ashamed of it isn't right. And yes, part of it is being here for the deafness because you won't talk to me, so I don't know how hard things are to hear. You're talking louder and lip reading, so I'm guessing you're having a fair amount of trouble trying to adjust. And this is about me being here because I can be this time. Goddammit, you've done enough alone." She clenched her teeth. He made it hard not to explode, but that would only lead to an argument.

"Fine," he growled. "If you stay, you stay out of my west wing of the bedrooms." Then he stormed to the massive wooden door and slammed it shut behind him so hard that it rattled.

She sank against the desk with relief. He wanted her here; otherwise, he would've thrown her out. The stubborn man just didn't know yet how to need her to get through this.

* * *

"Thank you for letting me borrow your nightgown, Trudy. Have you seen him?" She stood in what was considered her bedroom at his house and bit her lip as she took the large nightgown that Trudy offered.

Trudy and Pete had graciously avoided mentioning if they'd overheard the argument earlier. They had been a bit quiet during dinner, as if knowing.

"He's been holed up in his room, don'tcha know," Trudy said, her voice solemn. "He let Pete in at eight o'clock for the ear drops. Without being able to see or feel that side, he can't give himself ear drops. Like a bear trying to scratch his back, he is."

She plopped on the edge of the bed and rubbed her hands over her face. "Trudy, don't reference him like a bear. Maybe I should go. If me being here is just making him hole up in his room..."

"The Emma I know follows what her heart says, no matter how much Dr. Port resists. In the end, you always know what he needs." Trudy gave an encouraging smile.

With a sigh, she dropped her hands. "There will be first when both of us being pigheaded is going to lead to a mess."

"Goodnight, dear." Trudy closed the door.

She flopped back and stared at the ceiling. Option one was to go find him. If he was still in his bedroom, he just might explode if she showed up when he said to stay out of that hallway. Option two was to go sit downstairs and hope he came down for a late dinner. An ambush didn't seem wise. Option three was to stay in the bedroom and lay awake all night until he came to watch her sleep - he hurt tonight and would undoubtedly come sit to try to find peace.

At midnight, she padded down the dark hall with a flashlight. Goodness, she should ask Trudy tomorrow where the hall lightswitches were. The foyer lights glowed up the stairs. A lot of scratching and scrambling echoed. She frowned and turned off the flashlight at the top of the split staircase.

Jason stood in the foyer wearing green pajama bottoms, his blue robe, and the black ski mask. He tossed a wadded sock across the foyer. Prince scrambled across the marble floor into Jason's study. Jason cocked his head and seemed to listen as Prince came trotting back with the sock. Then he threw it into a different room and listened. He was trying to learn how things sounded different now without anyone finding out about the impairment.

Her chest constricted. She walked down to the stair landing where the two staircases joined and sat on the top step. Going to him right now would make him pull away. Once he saw her here, he could choose to leave or stay.

He threw the sock several more times before spotting her. Prince trotted back to him with the sock, but he didn't move. He simply looked up the stairs at her for several moments.

The pounding of her heart drowned out Prince's whining. It would say so much about their relationship if he walked away or came over. If he walked away, they weren't ready for marriage yet. Trust and respect balanced on the fence. Perhaps staying disrespected his wish for privacy. Him leaving meant he didn't trust on the level he needed to trust a wife. She swallowed hard with relief when he headed for the stairs.

She took his hand when he sat on her right and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I don't mean to shove myself on you. I just want you to know I'm here, Jay."

He clasped her hand between his and held it to his lips for a long kiss, his eye drifting shut like he absorbed her touch. "I need you here, Emma," he whispered and then lowered her hand to hold tight. "I'm sorry I was so harsh. It brought back memories of waking up in the hospital and suddenly unable to do things."

Scooting closer so their thighs touched, she laid her other hand on his bicep. "What kinds of things?" she asked in concern, her voice so soft that perhaps he couldn't hear.

Easing her hand off his arm, he took her left one in his and stroked the engagement ring. "I was on the respirator because my lungs weren't functioning right. I had dizziness and a headache from the narcotics and ear surgery. Losing an eye was hard to adjust to. One of the nurses said I had more trouble with balance and depth perception than most people because the ear surgery messed with my balance. Once I was off the respirator, my jaw was wired shut so the bones would heal."

Tears welled. He'd never talked about this.

"Once the wires were removed, it took a long time to speak again, mostly because the nerve damage caused loss of sensation in half of my tongue. I worked with a stroke speech therapist. After a few months, some of the sensation came back. Even when I hired Pete, I still had trouble with people understanding me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "It's not obvious at all, Jay. I had no idea."

He didn't say anything. "I wanted to be by you when the deafness was happening. And then all those emotions came back, and...I don't know. It was just so...hard. All over again." For the first time since sitting, he looked at her. "I'm not good at dealing with emotions. In SEALS training we were taught how to literally start firing the frontal cortex, which handles reasoning, before emotions could come into play because no sane person would walk into some of the situations we did." His eye drifted back to his hand holding hers. "I know how to shut everyone out so I can shut down - sometimes not feeling anything was the only way I could get through the past four years," he said, his voice soft. "You keep that door from shutting, which I know is healthier and good for our relationship, but..."

"But it's frightening?" She held his hand tighter.

He nodded. "I didn't even know what I needed this afternoon, I just knew I felt like I was going to explode." He held open his hand, the frustration still lingering in him. "I didn't know what to do with all that anger, which is why I told you to stay away. I didn't want to say something to you that I didn't mean and couldn't take back."

She rubbed his shoulder. "Did you stay in your room? I was worried that me staying would make you feel caged."

With a deep sigh, he shook his head. "I was in the exercise room lifting weights and on the treadmill. Pete wouldn't box with me until I worked out some of my energy."

A soft laugh escaped her. "I think anyone would be scared to take you on, much less when you're angry."

A slight smile upturned his lips."I realize now that I needed to shut the door until the emotions weren't quite so strong and easier to handle. I'm glad you stayed." He reached over and stroked her cheek.

"I'm learning to not push so hard." She held his hands. "I'm afraid of you feeling alone, and I know that your reaction is to pull away. I'm sorry if I smothered you."

A soft smile tugged. "I don't mean to laugh. Everything sounds distant, and I'm having trouble deciphering words. It sounded like you said 'I'm sorry if I mother do.' That probably isn't what you said."

She smiled. At least he felt comfortable enough to laugh at his troubles. "Smothered you," she said with distinct annunciation. But the smile died. "Will you tell me the troubles you're having?"

A deep sigh escaped and he fingered her engagement ring again. "I have no echolocation, I suppose you'd call it. I can't tell the direction a sound comes from or what sound is closer than another." He glanced at her.

With a frown, she nodded. It was hard to imagine what he described.

"When you were talking while Trudy vaccumed, it sounded like she was right beside you. The foyer echoes so bad that it's impossible to tell the direction of any sound. Even though I couldn't hear higher pitches in that ear, half of the time I could feel the vibrations to help with locating directions of sounds. In my good ear, everything sounds muffled compared to before. The allergist and ENT talked today and think it's allergy related, which probably caused the other ear to get infected."

She frowned, speaking a little louder so he could hear. "Did he increase the dose of the allergy injections?"

He sighed and nodded.

Everything that was so simple was so complicated for him. Allergies had had led to the deafness all because he couldn't feel he had an ear infection. Biting her lip, she looked at him. "Don't take this the wrong way. I did some research, and there's a nonsurgical device that is said to greatly enhance single-sided hearing loss by eighty percent or more." He looked intrigued, so she continued. "It's a small receiver that sits around the upper back molars. It transmits to a microphone that sits behind the outer ear and uses the outer ear to catch sound. I think it should be easy enough to create an ear for the plastic mask using a silicone or some kind of soft plastic that won't create echoing."

He cocked his head.

She smiled as the excitement bloomed. It might be a solution he'd like. "The receiver has a wire into the ear canal that sends the sound to the receiver. The receiver on the teeth transmits the sound through the bones in the head, somehow bypassing the middle ear and going right to the cochlea. You can eat and drink with the receiver. The microphone sits behind the ear, so it doesn't pick up noise from your mouth. There's no surgery at all, and you take it out at night to charge, so you could remove it for having the scans."

His eyebrow rose. "You researched this today?"

Goodness, perhaps he was offended. "Um, I sort of researched blogs of people discussing the problems they have with single-sided deafness. They said pretty much what you did, and one of them talked about having this device. She liked it a lot." She winced - he might not like that she'd researched what he was going through when he was still figuring out his capabilities himself.

He searched her eyes, and his lip twitched. And a smile slowly curled his lips. "You researched to learn about it?"

"No, because I've been curious about single-sided deafness since I was five years old." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, to learn about it! Shouldn't I want to know what you're dealing with and how to help you?"

A chuckle flashed his teeth and then he sobered. "Thank you, Emma. Will you show me online tomorrow what this device is? I'll ask the audiologist about it on Monday."

She grinned and got up, trotting down the stairs to her purse in the front closet. "I'll show you now." Pulling out her phone, she spun around and plowed into a hard chest. His robe had fallen open a little to reveal he was shirtless. Heavens, he had gorgeous muscles. A flush crept up her face.

Attraction crackled in the air.

"Emma," he said, his voice husky as his eye drew her in. He pulled up the collar of his robe to cover the back of his neck. "Close your eyes."

Her heart shot to the moon. It seemed like it'd been so long since he'd said those words and had kissed without a mask or bandage hiding his mouth. Dropping her phone in his robe pocket, she closed her eyes. The embers roared to flames in an instant. She ripped off the ski mask while wrapping her arms around his neck. Crushing her mouth against his, she sighed deep in her throat. Oh god, he was so delicious and beautiful.

He yanked off the bandage, as if not able to reach her lips fast enough. He lifted her onto his hips, resting her weight against the front door. A soft growl of pleasure vibrated in his chest against her breasts.

She captured his whole mouth, covering his missing lip so he wouldn't have to break the kiss so soon. Her tongue plunged inside, needing to taste his intoxicating masculinity. His hands sprawled over her back, burning through the thin nightgown. Her fingers buried in his smooth hair. Passion burned and throbbed. More. She needed more of him. "Jason, kiss me," she panted and tilted her head back, offering her neck.

His hot breath branded her throat, his tongue gliding down and his teeth grazing. He stopped where her pulse drummed, and suckled and nipped.

Her mouth fell open in a soft whimper, and her arms tightened around his shoulders.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered against her throat and softly bit, just enough to excite.

She melted in his arms. "I want you. Oh Jason, I want you," she breathed. He hadn't kissed like this before, so raw and confident. Her hand cupped the back of his head and held a fistful of those black locks. Her breasts rose and fell against his chest.

He cupped her underthighs and set her to her feet, and then caught her wrists and held them above her head. His tongue dipped in her mouth. She practically purred. His hands slowly glided down her bare arms and her sides, over her hips and thighs, and back up to squeeze her hips - all while his wet mouth massaged her lips and explored. "You're so beautiful, Emma," he whispered. "How can I desire you this much?"

She whimpered and reached inside his robe. The hard landscaping under her hands only fueled the fire. His strength and power offered so much protection and gentleness. The fear of intimacy faded away as he pulled her against his chest.

Love and desire and protectiveness and gentleness swelled in him and poured over her heart. He panted, as if the emotions were sweeping him away. "Emma," he gasped. "I won't break our rules." His mouth crushed down on hers, demanding and passionate, and he backed her up. The emotions swelled in him, too strong to contain. He backed her up into his office and kicked the door shut. Her heart beat wild with excitement. He pressed her down onto the sofa and climbed on top, ripping off his robe. "Emma, I need you," he panted and gathered her in his arms.

A sigh of ecstacy whisped past her lips as his heart reached into her chest and beat in sync with hers. Her arms wrapped around his chest and held tight as his love had the power to stop the world. Nothing else existed - no burns or disabilities or monsters. Only them.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed her neck, not seeming worried about his mouth when his kisses grew a bit more wet.

Her heart melted. "I love you too." Heat curled in her belly, the instinct to join his body almost unbearable.

When his hips thrusted of their own accord, he buried his face against her neck. His chest heaved and muscles bulged as he forced himself to still.

She breathed hard and held him, her own body burning in the flames. Shifting her leg, she happened to brush his desire.

A choked gasp escaped him, and he grabbed her knee in a vice-like grip to still her.

Suddenly, Gaston's twisted laugh rang loud and clear. _No man wants you now_ , he'd laughed as she'd lain sobbing and covered in her own blood.

Jason's body trembled as he struggled to get up. Then he pulled her up and turned her to face away, resting his hands on her hips.

Her knees wobbled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was just a memory. Jason didn't stop because he didn't desire her.

"Go to bed, Emma." Jason's voice purred smooth and husky as his fingers trailed down her spine, stoking the fire. "You're doing something to me tonight. I desire you too much for our own good."

Just like that, he crushed the awful memory and doubts.

His hand buried into her hair at the nape of her neck, and he leaned down and kissed her throat. "I don't want sex, Emma," he whispered. "I want to make love."

A shiver ran down her back as her heart melted. He eased her head to tilt to the left and spread more drops of love along her neck and shoulder. Her lips parted in a soft pant.

"I want to take you to the church and feel my heart break from joy to see you walk down the aisle toward me. I want to hold you in my arms, safe and protected as we make love." His hand slid around and down to rest on her lower belly. "I want to put my baby in you and watch you grow even more beautiful."

She swallowed hard as tears burned behind her closed eyes, and she cupped her hand over his.

"I want to not sleep at all the first night, just admiring you and our gorgeous baby. I want our family to grow. I want to grow old with you." He sprinkled another kiss on her neck. "I want that all right now, sweetheart. Marry me this spring, Emma. I don't want to wait a year. Be my wife this May."

She blinked. "This spring?"

"Yes, if you want to too," he whispered in her ear with a soft kiss.

Her heart beat faster with love. Turning in his arms, she closed her eyes and raised onto her toes. "Of course I do, Jay." Mrs. Jason Port in nine months. Joy lifted her up to the clouds. Then she sealed the promise with a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, YazminXD, SingingSilent, MissSparrow101, Guest, and JustAStranger!**

 **This short chapter needed to stand alone to be as impactful as intended because this is a big relationship building block for them that's needed for later in the story. I rewrote it several times, completely different, because he kept seeming whiney instead of profoundly moved.**

* * *

She woke up that night for some reason. A small fire in the fireplace lapped and crackled in the fireplace near the foot of the bed - a fire she hadn't lit. Prince basked in the heat at the hearth and snored with a sock draped over his head. Dark shadows and golden glows danced across the walls. Cloaked in the darkness, a large silhouette sat in a small chair that occupied the short wall between the fireplace and door. She shot up with a start.

"It's me, Emma." That deep baritone as smooth as honey stroked her ears.

She laid a hand over her heart to slow its galloping. "Jason? Why are you in here? Why did you start a fire?"

His silhouette didn't move, and his tone held a note of sadness. "Sleep is elusive tonight. I found peace in watching you, so I lit a fire and stayed for a few minutes."

From anyone else, that would be unsettling. From him, it spoke of heartache. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand to her left. Quarter to three. Something bothered him. He hadn't sat in her room during the night since the car accident. Even that, he'd later admitted to doing partially to monitor her health partially to help find relaxation from the insomnia. She held out her hand. "Come lie down and we can talk."

"You should sleep."

"As should you." She pulled down the sheets on the other side.

"Go back to sleep, Emma. I'll go in a moment." He made no move.

She frowned. "Why are you sitting over there? Come tell me what's wrong, Jay."

He still didn't move. Instead, he remained silent for a long minute. It was like he needed to be near but something held him prisoner in the shadows. "It's odd...to have something you've worked for almost half of your life suddenly gone," he said, his tone flat.

Her brow furrowed.

"In boot camp as a teenager, I decided to work my way to a SEAL to prove to teachers, Army officers...everyone, that I wasn't as worthless as they thought." His voice carried soft and solemn in the darkness, yet so much raw emotion lay just under the surface. His silhouette shifted, as if he leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "I think at one point even my mother lost faith in me," he whispered.

The need to go to him swam up, yet something about him was too fragile, as if he'd shatter if anything interrupted this moment. He mourned not being even a 'volunteer' SEAL anymore, but something more, something deeper affected him too.

"I learned to achieve success to prove myself to people - even now with the burns I have to prove myself. Today was the first time I failed since I was eighteen." His voice seemed to struggle to find strength. "I was afraid of disappointing you and was ashamed of you learning about something else physically wrong with me. I can't bear to fall in your eyes, Emma." His voice grew thick.

Tears blurred everything into soft gold and orange glows from the firelight. Swallowing hard, she sniffled and shook her head. "You could never disappoint me."

"You didn't look at me like I'm less of a man or as if I let you down. Even when I'm ashamed of myself, you see what I can't." His voice hitched the slightest bit. "You teach me what love is, what it means to trust and have faith in you even when I'm afraid."

She sniffled. He rarely opened up like this, and tonight his raw emotion shook the very depths of her soul.

Even in the darkness, his eye seemed to look right into hers. "If you walked through Hell, I would follow you, Emma," he whispered. "Today, home went from being a place to being you."

A choked sob escaped at his heartbreakingly beautiful words, and her heart swelled too much to breathe. A single tear glided down.

Without a word, he quietly got up and banked the fire. Footsteps creaked the floorboards. Warm lips pressed against her forehead in a soft kiss. His hand captured hers and interlaced with her fingers, as if seeking a lifeline to hold in the sea of heartache that tried to drown him.

When he lifted her hand to his lips, a tear fell on the back of her hand and utterly shattered her heart. She reached out to hold him, to whisper words of love that might protect him.

But he was nowhere to be found.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Trying to find a house, so that's eating up my writing time.**

 **If you want a good tear jerker, Google people's reactions when they hear for the first time or for the first time after severe hearing impairment. :)**

* * *

She walked into the arboretum at seven o'clock on Monday. Fragrant perfume from the roses permeated the air. The birds sang bright, cheery songs from the tops of the palm trees in welcome of the morning. She dragged her feet a bit to give Jason warning of her presence. The poor man startled so easily lately without being able to decipher sound distances.

He knelt at the back of the greenhouse and cut red roses, taking great care to lay them in a pile beside him. The shears snapped, and he laid another one down.

"Hi, Jay." She knelt on his left and set a hand on his shoulder.

His head whipped around, as if surprised. Then he offered a tentative smile. "Good morning, Emma." He cut another rose. "Were you able to go back to sleep alright?"

"I was. Did you?" Since him coming to her room Friday night, she'd stayed the weekend. And had woken up again each night to find him there. He'd claimed to simply need the peace of being near her but had refused to lie down to sleep in the same bed. And refused to talk much.

A weak shrug was his answer. That blue eye fell to her lips. Exhaustion built in him with each passing day.

"Jay, insomnia isn't like you. You've avoided Trudy and Pete since Friday ,and you won't talk at all about your hearing."

As soon as she finished speaking, his gaze returned to the roses. "I'm not depressed, if that's your concern. There's nothing to talk about with my hearing. I said I'll call the audiologist today about that hearing device." He kept kept his eye on pruning a bush. "Ms. Van Hoodie argues that I'm joined at the hip with you, so I can't be that antisocial."

She sighed. "I'm the only one you will talk to, and not much at that. You've been withdrawn since Friday night. Talk to me, Jason." She laid a hand on his back.

He sat back on his haunches and looked at her with a frown. His eye fell to her lips like he tried to decipher her words. Self-consciousness flashed as he seemed to realize he'd missed what she'd said.

She sighed and searched his face. He was so stubborn about admitting he hadn't heard something. Perhaps it was mean to make him admit it, but he also needed to learn it was alright to ask for something to be repeated. "It's only me, Jason."

He seemed to catch that because he looked away for a moment and then back.

"Jay, you don't play music anymore; you don't laugh; Pete says you're boxing that punching bag thing every day, which he said is out of the ordinary...tell me what's going on."

Silence. He seemed so much to prefer the silence since going semi-deaf. When she set a hand on his shoulder, he returned his attention back to the roses. "The birds sound like they're right next to you."

Draping an arm over his shoulders, she purred in his ear, "Is this better?" Then she nipped his earlobe.

That won a weak smile and a grunt.

She darted her tongue just below his ear where his neck caved in behind his jaw. "Perhaps we shall do some association psychology, Dr. Port." Her voice dropped to a husky tone, just the way that seemed to drive him crazy. "Every time you say you didn't hear me, I'll give you a kiss."

The corner of his lip curled up a bit. "I can get a kiss from you anytime."

"Not like this," she purred and took his hand to pull him up. She kissed down his thick throat still smooth from a fresh shave. Then her tongue darted out for a quick sip.

He sighed deep in his chest, and his head tilted to the side. His hand buried in her loose hair as he cupped the back of her head, and his breathing quickened just enough to portray his arousal. It was as if he hurt, by the way he held her close and soaked up the affection.

"Talk to me, Jay," she breathed and pressed a kiss under his ear. "You're so withdrawn since Friday, and I can't find you." Then she brushed a soft kiss on his jaw and pulled her head back to look at him.

Sadness glimmered in his eye, and he guided her head down to rest on his shoulder. His left fingers glided down her arm in a butterfly soft brush to lace his fingers with hers. His right arm held her tight against his body.

She closed her eyes, simply inhaling his woodsy scent and relaxed to the quiet rhythm of his heart. A gentle sway melted into a lazy, peaceful waltz.

"I only know to expect what history taught me." His voice carried no stronger than a gentle breeze. "I'm trying to remember that you're not her. I don't know what I'd do without you, Emma."

Losing so much in the fire and now losing the SEALS and his hearing at once brought back all the emotions - even the illogical fear that she would leave like Carolyn had. The only way he knew to brace himself was to pull away. Yet, he couldn't seem to stand the emotional distance widening, so he held on by physically not being more than a few feet away from her at all times.

She leaned back. Just as much pain reflected in his eye as in his voice. When she cupped his face in her hands, he caught her wrist. He didn't want her touching the mask. Enough of the monsters winning him over. "No," she ordered and didn't let go. She looked into his eye. "I love you, and I'm not going anywhere -

He shook his head just a bit, and his eye shimmered with heartache. "I know you're not leaving. But I feel like I'm lost from you, and I don't know why or how to get back to you, Emma," he whispered. He buried his face against her neck, his arms holding so tight. When he breathed in deep, as if to absorb her smell, her touch, her love, he nuzzled her hair. "It's comforting to be near you."

Tears welled. The sadness in the slow sway of the waltz portrayed what abundant pain in his tone couldn't. "I'm right here looking for you, Jay," she whispered. "I'll find you." Then she pressed her lips against his cheek. "Jason?" Her voice carried no louder than a whisper against his ear. "Let me come with if you get a hearing device."

His steps stilled and he lifted his head. Hope replaced the profound loneliness in his eye. "Why?"

A smile blossomed at such a silly question. "Because I love you, goose. Why not?"

A wrinkle formed in his brow and he lifted his chin a bit to look down his nose. He appeared quite unsure what to think of this apparently odd request.

Carolyn. It must seem odd to him because perhaps Carolyn hadn't been there for him. Her voice hardened a little. "Did she even stay in the room to help you through the dressing changes when they were the most painful?"

He tensed but held her glare, refusing to say anything.

"Oh my god," she breathed in disgust and anger. The pain that Carolyn had added to his burdens - the more she learned of the woman, the harder it became to stomach the thought of her. He didn't defend the woman, but he didn't slur her either. Sometimes part of her wanted to hate the woman. But the point here was Jason, who didn't need hate. She cupped his face and whispered, "I love you." Then she closed her eyes and pulled off the mask, pressing her lips to his.

* * *

The poor man sat ramrod straight in the doctor's office two weeks later. She sat in the chair to his left and held his hand. Last week he'd gone to the dentist for an impression of his teeth so the hearing device would fit properly. He'd become more and more of a recluse in his study as he discovered more and more hearing restrictions.

She bit her lip in nervousness for him and rubbed his arm. "This is going to work."

He didn't look too hopeful.

The older man, who was the audiologist, returned with the device and sat down at the counter on Jason's right. "This is the piece that goes on your teeth." He held up a small black, almost retainer looking device that would fit on Jason's two back molars. "Because of the skull bone damage from the fire possibly hindering the vibrations, we'll have you wear it on your left side. The microphone will go in your right ear, so you'll be able to hear sounds from the right."

Jason faced away from her, likely craning his head around to hear the audiologist on his deaf side.

She clasped her hands tight in her lap when Jason let go to put in the mouthpiece. Her heart pounded with anxiety. The otolaryngologist suspected that with the level of difficulty Jason had to adjusting to deafness, that he'd had at least sixty percent hearing out of his right ear after the fire. The recent deafness had revealed minor hearing loss to higher pitches in the left ear too, likely from the head trauma of the beam crushing his skull.

"Emma, you can be the first to speak to him when I nod," the man whispered and got out the other piece that looked a bit like a hearing aid. Jason apparently hadn't heard because he simply ran his tongue over his back teeth.

"Is it comfortable?" The audiologist started to hook the piece around the fake ear molded on the new mask.

"Yes." He flushed when his speech came out muffled.

"It takes about fifteen minutes of practice and then the speech impediment goes away." The audiologist signaled for him to cover the good ear and turn to her.

Her heart pounded as he turned, his eye downcast as if expecting disappointment. He desperately needed this to work with how depressed he seemed to be. She leaned over and whispered, "I love you." When she sat back, his wide eye stared at her in shock.

"Could you hear her?"

His head whipped around to the audiologist, as if surprised by more sound. He let go of his other ear and gave a dumbfounded nod. "Is this what things really sound like?" Hope and amazement swelled in his voice. He swallowed hard.

The audiologist smiled. "Yes. Patients say it doesn't distort. Can you hear clearer?"

She slipped her hand into his and blinked back tears. His good ear must have more problems than the doctor realized. It was like watching him hear for the first time. She cupped a hand over her mouth as the tears blurred.

He turned to her, holding her hand tight. "Speak again," he begged, the lisp fading. Hope gleamed in his eye.

Anything in the world to say, and only one thing came to mind important enough for him to hear right now in this moment that was changing his life for the better. Finally something was getting better for him. "I love you." Her voice broke.

Wonder and joy shimmered in his eye, and he stroked her cheek in awe. A tear rolled down his face. "I love you. More. Say my name."

It was like watching a miracle. Her lip trembled with a watery smile. "Jason." She cupped his hand on her face. "Is everything clearer?"

He nodded and his lower lip quivered. "Your voice is so soft. You sound so beautiful."

Tears fell from her lashes. He acted like he was truly hearing her for the first time.

"How does she sound different, Jason?"

He didn't tear his eye from her as he held her face in his hands, seeming to soak up every bit of her. His gaze dove right into her heart. "I could only hear the lower undertones, and her voice was...flat. There's so much color in your voice, Emma. And it's so soft and gentle," he whispered, his voice losing strength. His lips pressed together and brow furrowed with tears welling in his eye. Her face finally crumpled seeing him cry with happiness. He bowed his head and let go of her with one hand to cover his face.

Her heart broke and melted and sang all at once. It was his first time actually hearing her, and it seemed to mean the world to him. Finally something had been given back to him instead of taken away. Her hands shook, and she held his tight. The emotions grew too strong when his shoulders shook from silent weeping. She burst into tears and pulled him into her arms.

"It's alright. You would be the first if you didn't cry, Jason." The audiologist patted Jason's knee and then handed her some tissues.

Once Jason let go, she wiped his tears and smiled through her own. He took a tissue from her and brushed a kiss over her lips before dabbing at her tears too. And then he smiled as bright as the sun. Only a few other smiles from him had been as beautiful, and only the smile when she'd agreed to be his wife had outshined this one now.

The audiologist sat forward with a frown and flipped through the chart. "In the left ear, you were tested four years ago by the previous audiologist, whom I replaced about six months ago, and - "

Jason sat back but didn't release her hand. "No, he asked if I had trouble in my left ear. There was never testing on that side."

The man pursed his lips, clearly not pleased. "I imagine with the pain and surgeries that happened immediately after the fire distracting you that you attributed hearing difficulty to the loss on the right side. You likely grew used to the impairment on the left before you really had an opportunity to realize it had changed."

"Yes," Jason replied, very solemn. "I didn't want to be around people much, and didn't notice until a couple weeks ago that I already could lip read."

"Let me go talk to the doctor. Would you be able to stay for testing on the left side?"

Jason looked at her. "Do you need to get back to work?"

"I told Olin I might be out for a few hours. Do the testing while we're here." She squeezed his hand.

She paced and checked email on her phone and tried to do a little work, but it was impossible to concentrate while Jason was in the other room having the test. The otolaryngologist came in. Something must be wrong. Her heart sped up.

"We started the testing, but he was failing. I checked his left ear, and he has significant fluid pressure. With his seasonal allergies, an ear infection is likely brewing on that side too. He must have high pain tolerance because his bulging ear drum should be causing a lot of pain. My concern is his ear drum tearing. His body seems to overheal - hypertrophic scarring it's called. My concern is a spontaneous tear in the ear drum would cause thick scarring and cause deafness in his only remaining ear."

She swallowed hard and sat in the chair. "There's nothing to do?"

He sat too. "No, there is. Tymphanotomy is what he's agreed to, but I'm modifying the procedure. Usually a scalpal is used to make an incision in the ear drum. I'm going to use a syringe and make a fine puncture for air equalization and for a hole for more fluid to drain out. It will be at the edge of his ear drum so scarring will likely not inhibit his hearing. With a very fine insulin syringe, I'm going to suction out the fluid. This can all be done with topical anesthetic in about fifteen minutes. He just needs to keep cotton in his ear for a week to keep it clean and wear ear plugs in the shower. I'll recheck in a week. We'll do the hearing test then. I'll bring him back in a few minutes." He stood.

"May I sit with him?"

The doctor started to shake his head.

"He has no family and went through the burns completely on his own. I can't stand the sight of blood, so I promise to stay out of the way. Just let me be in the room with him."

"Alright."

Jason looked up in surprise from where he sat on the edge of an exam table in the in-office surgery room. "Emma?"

She crossed the room and took his hands, leaning her forehead against his. "I said you don't need to do things alone anymore, Jay."

His heart melted in his eye, and he cupped her cheek. "Are you certain? It's a simple procedure, and you get queasy."

"I won't look." She cracked a smile far braver than her shaking knees.

The doctor and a nurse came in, but he paid them no attention. "Thank you," he said, his voice so soft. "Every time I think how wonderful it is to have such a supportive partner, you build us stronger."

Her eye shifted to the tray the doctor and nurse set beside the table. The nurse set a long-needled syringe on it. She paled.

"Emma." He cupped her cheek and turned her head back to meet his eye. "You don't need to stay. Just the fact that you're willing is more than enough. I'll just be a few minutes."

She swallowed hard and shook her head, clutching his hand on her cheek.

"Let's sit, sweetheart." He got up and held a firm arm around her waist as he led her to a chair in the corner of the small room. Only his grip kept her from collapsing in the chair. When he eased her down, he squatted before her and searched her eyes in concern. "Love, it means everything that you want to stay." He laid a hand over his heart and held her hand. "But I think it best if you wait outside so you don't faint."

She drew a deep breath and shook her head. If he had to go through it, the least she could do was sit with him.

"Ready?" the doctor asked.

Jason raised his eyebrow in question. When she nodded that she was staying, he sighed. Then he stood and kissed her brow before he left and laid down on the table.

She wasn't here to stay across the room. Getting up slow to test her wobbly legs, she dragged over the chair beside the table and sat.

They all stared. And then Jason burst out laughing. The nurse and doctor smiled and resumed.

"Ah, Em. I don't know if you're stubborn or determined," Jason chuckled. He took her hand and smiled so big as he turned his head to look at her.

"Both. Remember that in the future," she replied dryly and looked away when the doctor picked up a long cotton swab.

"Alright, head forward," the doctor chuckled. "I'm going to touch your ear drum and see if the anesthetic is working yet."

Silence. His hand didn't twitch or tighten in hers at all. Then he drew a sharp breath and squeezed her hand.

"That's the worst of it. Your ear drum is tender. I applied more anesthetic to it. As soon as some of the fluid pressure is drained, it'll instantly feel better. Aspirin the next day or two should be sufficient for any discomfort."

She looked at the doctor without thinking. "He's allergic. Is acetaminophen strong enough?" Jason's hand gradually relaxed.

"Ah, that's right. Yes. Being we aren't making an incision, I expect you won't need anything if you've gotten through this without pain reliever." He glanced at her. "Look away." When she did, he asked, "Can you feel this?"

"No," Jason replied.

"Good. Tell me if you have pain." Silence. "Excellent. We're going to drain now."

She stood a bit to see over the mask to check if he was doing alright. He glanced from the corner of his eye and smiled.

"There. Turn you head toward me just a hair...good."

He frowned. "Am I supposed to hear better already?"

"You should. This hole shouldn't interfere much with your hearing. Is it better?"

"It is. Not a great deal, but you don't sound as muffled."

"Good. Alright, you're done. I'm prescribing antibiotic drops." The doctor rattled through the instructions and then brought the audiologist back in.

"The test results from today aren't reliable because of the fluid muffling sound. I do suspect with this hearing device that you might hear sounds you haven't heard in years, and it might be overwhelming. Take it slow going to public places. There will be a bit of an adjustment period, and you'll need to get used to bilateral hearing again - you were significantly hearing impaired in the right ear before two weeks ago. Things will seem louder with bilateral hearing, so you might startle a bit more easily. Here is the second device you ordered." He handed Jason a bag. "The battery lasts eight hours, so you just need to remember to charge it while you're wearing the other device. I'll see you again in a week to see how it's going. Any questions?"

Jason shook his head and looked at her.

She bit her lip. Perhaps it would embarrass him, but they were right here in the office. "If the left-side hearing is significantly impaired, doesn't he need a hearing device for that side?"

Jason didn't seem embarrassed by the question and looked to the audiologist.

"Hearing aids only turn up volume, they don't fix the impairment I suspect he has. This device wouldn't work well if you used two of them. The only option is to pick which side to wear the device, or have surgery, which you said you want to avoid." He looked at Jason, who nodded. "This device might be enough to help significantly by using it for the right side. Give it a go, and we can assess in a week how it's going. You went four years functioning without any hearing device, so my money is on this being enough to not make the tone deafness on the other side very noticeable."

When she walked out to the parking lot on his arm, he stopped and looked around. "Is everything alright, Jay?"

His eye searched the parking lot and bustling people and noises from the busy large city. "There's so much noise. I've forgotten what the city sounds like. All the little sounds were gone."

It seemed to overwhelm him, so she led the way to the car where Pete waited. But her smile couldn't be erased.

Pete stepped out and opened the door with a smile of his own. "I take it that everything went well."

Jason stopped and stared at him. "Do you have a cold?"

Pete blinked. "Ah, no, sir."

She smiled and laid a hand on Jason's chest. "That's his voice. Does he sound different too?"

He turned his head to her and nodded. "Not quite as deep." He spoke a bit quieter than usual and touched the wedge of plastic that served as the outer ear to hold on the microphone and transmitter.

"Is everything too loud?" She frowned.

With a slight frown, he nodded. "Everything isn't muffled."

She got in the car and scooted over so he could get in right away too. It must be overwhelming to be bombarded with so many noises not heard so clearly or at all in four years.

His excited chatter began to fade after a few minutes, and he rubbed his left ear.

"And then...does your ear hurt, Jay?" She frowned.

"The vibrations hurt. The anesthetic must be wearing off." He took out the mouthpiece.

"Do you want to stop at the drug store for pain reliever? It's still a half hour drive home, honey."

He didn't respond but simply wrapped the mouthpiece in a handkerchief and put it in his breast pocket.

"Jay?" she said louder and touched his arm. When he looked, she said, "Can you hear me?"

His brow knit, and his face fell. Then he started to dig out the mouthpiece.

Her heart fell. With the cotton, he was completely deaf. If he was skilled at lip reading... She turned in her seat a bit to face him fully and grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Don't. If it hurts, don't wear it. Can you tell what I'm saying?" She kept her pace slow and annunciated for the extra lip movement.

His eye followed her lips. Then he looked at her and shook his head. "It doesn't hurt without the mouthpiece." His eye fell to her lap with heartache.

She swapped seatbelts for the middle seat and then took his hands. When his eye lifted to her lips, she gave a soft smile. "It's only temporary for a few days. We can do this." The way his brow knit said he hadn't understood.

Instead of him pulling away and holing up, he pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "Text me what you said."

A smile blossomed and she took his phone. In the middle of texting, his hand reached across the screen, and he stroked her far cheek. She looked at him.

"I love you, Emma. Thank you for coming today. There's no other sound I would've wanted to be the first I heard. The silence would be so much harder if I hadn't heard you today."

She set down the phone and turned to him. "We can do this, Jay."

A soft smile lightened his face. "Emma, I hope one day I can give back everything you've given me."

"You already have, Jay. You were there when I needed you with Dad."

That evening after she finished work, she peeked in on him in his office. His phone vibrated on the desk, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Then he started typing on the computer again.

She walked over and sat across the desk. He glanced up. "Do you want me to retrieve your voicemails, honey?"

He heaved a sigh. "Would you mind? I sent out an email that I need communication through text or email, but I've gotten six calls this afternoon." He glanced at his watch. "I have a big conference meeting in thirty minutes that I emailed my admin assistant to reschedule. She's having trouble reaching everyone. It's a Foundation board meeting." He handed her the phone and a notepad.

She dictated the voicemails and then handed him the notepad.

"Thank you." He glanced at her.

"What if I sit in on the call and type what everyone is saying? I can type seventy words a minute. You can read over my shoulder."

He gave a gentle smile, something softening in his eye. "As hard as this is right now to do work, somehow I think I'm going to be glad it happened."

She frowned in question.

"I think it's going to do something to make us closer."

"You can be a romantic," she laughed.

He smiled. "I don't know what that last word was, but you look beautiful when you laugh."

She flushed and bit her lip in a shy smile.

"And pretty when you blush," he added, his voice husky.

"Nothing stops you from being a rake, does it?" She got up and walked around the desk to sit in his lap.

The man simiply grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "You know, you're much easier to handle when silent."

Her jaw dropped, and she swatted his chest.

He burst out laughing and then kissed her soundly.

* * *

The next day was Saturday. She ran down to the parking lot with Prince when Jason's car pulled up.

Jason stepped out of the car just in time to catch her in his arms. He laughed. "Hi, sweetheart. You're in a good mood."

She planted a hearty kiss on his lips and leaned back so he could see her mouth. "I had a brilliant idea." Then she held up a sign language book from the library.

His eyebrow shot up.

"We are going to teach each other today. If you get more ear infections, there might be other times when this will come in handy - "

"Whoa," he smiled. "You're talking too fast. Slow down." He let go and took a step back, his eye focused on her lips. "'We can teach today more infections might when handy' is what I got out of that." He set his hands on his hips.

She laughed and shook her head before repeating herself.

He cocked his head with a thoughtful look. "You'd learn sign language for me?"

With a roll of her eyes, she smiled and flung her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. A kiss that left him looking a bit dazed when she let him up for air. "Did you understand that answer, my sexy Dr. Port?"

His laugh lit up his eye. "I did, Future Mrs. Port."

She held his hand to her throat so he would feel the vibrations. "Mmmm. I like the sound of that," she purred.

Desire flashed through his eye, and he pulled her closer against him. "There are perks to not being able to hear you, Em." His fingers glided down her throat and rested on her pulse. His voice fell to a husky hum. "Your heart is beating faster." That blue eye pierced right into her soul.

Butterflies tickled her belly, and she grew a bit breathless. Deafness did not hinder the sheer masculine power about him. "Hush, Jay. We are holding class today." She slipped into the car and scooted over.

"Yes, ma'm. But before the day is through, I fully intend to seduce you," he said as he got in and shut the door.

Her head whipped around to him with wide eyes. Heavens, the man couldn't be serious that he didn't feel self-conscious about his deafness all of the sudden.

The promise of dark pleasures reflected in that gorgeous blue eye. "No hearing is necessary for my class, sweetheart." Then he slid into the middle seat, closing the distance between them. "I fully intend to feel that delectible throat vibrate against my lips with your moans of pleasure, Emma," he purred, his voice as seductive as the way his fingers trailed down her neck.

Her pulse quickened and she swallowed hard as heat pooled in her belly. Oh dear. He was serious. And on the prowl. Goodness, he looked like he wanted to devour her. "You are going to be trouble as a husband, I see."

His half-hooded eye paid far too much attention to her lips as he leaned closer. "On the contrary, my dear. I intend to be a very attentive husband." His hand wrapped around her throat with the lightest touch.

Her lips parted of their own accord, his touch exciting and powerful and safe all rolled up in one. "I think I've entered the lion's den."

A half sigh, half growl escaped him as his eye rolled back. "I want you so much right now it's almost painful, Emma. You shattered something in me for the better yesterday. Having to touch and watch you intently to communicate is driving me wild. And it's only been twenty-four hours," he breathed without releasing her throat. Then his lips crushed down on hers, and his tongue dove inside, demanding and seducing with such tremendous love.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ughhhhh!" She flopped backwards on her end of the sofa in the cabin room. Jason picked up sign language as if he'd been speaking it forever...and she did as if she'd been speaking it five minutes. Of course his genius I.Q. probably helped.

He chuckled and tugged her hand to sit up. "The signs tell a story; don't memorize them. You're making it too hard, sweetheart. 'Boy' is like grabbing the bill of a baseball cap - " he said from the other end of the sofa where he sat sideways.

"Ohhh, you're cheating!" She laughed and slapped her hands down on the book laying on the middle cushion of the sofa between them.

He laughed. "No!" When she signed that he was a cheater, he burst out belly laughing. "Don't go around doing that." His fingers closed around hers and corrected the sign.

She frowned. "What did I say?"

"You don't want to know." He smiled and then signed again, spelling a few of the words for which they hadn't practiced the signs for yet. _I like trying things with you. Never would I have thought this would be fun_.

She giggled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. _Of course it is - you're doing it with me._

With a mischevious smile, he caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. Then he picked up his cell from the coffee table beside hers and tapped in something. Feeling Good blared over the surround sound system in the room. "Too loud?" He pocketed the phone when she laughed and shook her head. With a wiggle of his eyebrow, his smile grew and he spun her into his arms.

She laughed without a care when he dipped her. The vibrations trembled in the floor - even almost completely deaf he'd figured out how to dance with her. He didn't resemble the man, who just a few months ago, saw only the impossible. This man seemed to no longer remember the meaning of the word. And, damn, he led a sexy ballroom dance.

As he picked up speed and whirled her around, he guided her out into the foyer that served as a perfect ballroom. The music faded too much to be felt through the floor, but he managed to keep perfect tempo. His face lit up with such carefree happiness as he took her through the clouds.

His pocket glowed a bit. The clever man must've set his phone to vibrate the pulse of the music against his thigh. He snapped her out in a spin to the beat and then back into his arms, their feet in perfect harmony with the fast tempo.

She laughed and held on tight as he whipped around the foyer. Her heart as light as the clouds they danced on. As the song slowed down, her heart sped up as he spun her without releasing her hands and tipped her back in his arms.

"God, I love dancing with you," he whispered, his lips inches away.

She grew breathless as she looked up into his eye - his smile faded and a tender look crept into his gaze. He reached out, easily holding her in one arm, and ran his thumb down near the corner of her mouth. "I miss hearing you laugh when that dimple appears. I want to know what you actually sound like when your laughter rings through the house." His voice flowed low and smooth, swirling with colors of intimacy and love. His eye locked with hers, his gaze growing intimate.

Butterflies overtook her belly and her heart beat faster. Oh how his dancing could sweep her off her feet.

In one swift move, he uprighted her and spun them into the cabin room again. One of his hands released to sweep behind her thighs. In a slow, fluid movement, he lowered her onto the sofa and leaned down.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he reached for the mask. "Yes," she whispered and reached up for him, welcoming his weight.

"Emma, what do you do to me?" he whispered and pressed her into the sofa. "Your desire for me like this makes me want you even more."

Her heart skipped a beat. There was something magical that happened whenever he kissed without the mask. It was just him - raw and flawed and...perfect. He never failed to reach in with his kiss and touch her soul, painting beautiful colors that didn't exist in the world. She held on as he made the world dip and spin through the white rapids of his love.

He pulled back a hairsbreath and sprinkled kisses on her lips, his hand grazing her throat like he was unbuttoning his own shirt. "Trust me, Emma. I won't tie it."

Something thin and cool like silk draped over her eyelids. His tie. Her brow furrowed.

"I don't want to always make love in the dark when we wed - I want to see the passion in your body, sweetheart. If it makes you afraid to cover your eyes when I touch you, I won't ask you again."

She swallowed hard. "You're not going to ever let me see, are you?" Her heart fell from where he'd been floating it in the clouds. A gap would exist forever. "Why don't you trust me?"

His hand caressed her cheek. "It doesn't have to do with trust, Emma. I couldn't bear for you to be afraid of me, for you to wake up one night and scream." Heartbreak filled his voice.

"I'm not going to ever scream seeing you - "

"Please, Emma," he begged. "Even if you woke up from a nightmare and were already scared and then I startled you...the times you've been scared of me because you thought I was him were hard. I couldn't handle you being afraid of what you see. It would shatter some of your trust. Please don't ask me to risk losing what we have." He stroked her hair.

"And risk never having what more there is waiting for us," she whispered.

He heaved a sigh and started to pull away.

She caught his shirt at his chest but didn't remove his tie. "Jay." He stilled. "I'll agree to trying blindfolding if you agree we work toward no mask."

"But - "

"The only condition I have to marrying you without seeing your face is you try. It doesn't have to be this year or the next, but at some point we try. Until then, just steps." She held out her left hand to hover near his face.

Silence. Then his weight shifted a bit, and his warm fingers clasped around hers. For several seconds, he didn't move. And then he laid her fingers against his bare throat, keeping pressure so she couldn't stroke or wander. The calloused, warped skin seemed more familiar this time and yet new. His throat didn't curve out to a strong jaw like on the other side - it seemed to almost flow straight into his jaw. Perhaps the jawbone on that side had been crushed to almost nothing, like he said his cheekbone was. His pulse thundered in his neck, and his chest heaved.

A soft smile parted her lips. "Kiss me," she whispered. "Let me show you how much I love you."

His breathing grew choppy and he moved off of her.

But she kept her eyes closed and followed, sitting up and leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his unburned one. He trembled the slightest bit. "I love you, Jay. I don't want secrets or blindfolds between us when we make a baby. Just like how beautiful it is when you kiss me without the mask, making love will be like that too."

He didn't say anything but just held her tighter.

Her phone on the coffee table rang. She glanced down. Nana's number.

"You should answer in case something is wrong."

With a sigh, she sat back and picked up the phone as he picked up the mask that had fallen on the floor. Then she curled up against his side. "Hi, Nana."

"How's my Emmie doing? You'd better not be trying on wedding dresses without me."

She smiled and scooted down to lay her head in Jason's lap so he could watch the conversation. "No, I'll bring you along when I try on dresses, Nana."

A soft, sentimental smile lightened his face, and he ran a hand through her hair as he looked down.

"Good. Tell that beau of yours to bring that fancy plane of his out here for Thanksgiving dinner."

She giggled and smiled up at him. The sweet man smiled simply because she did. "It's a jet. Thanksgiving is a little more than a month away yet. Are you inviting us to your house or is one of the aunts having it?"

"I had to snag you before someone else does. I wouldn't blame that man of yours for sweeping you away to France or somewhere for the weekend. Dinner is here. I ain't doin' any cooking. Everyone is bringing a dish, and your mother is coming here to make the turkey with Andy." Then Nana muttered, "Andy will probably burn down the house with her lack of domestic skills."

"Nana," she scolded and then covered the mouthpiece. "Nana invited us to Thanksgiving. Do you already have plans?"

He smiled. "Yes, whatever you're doing."

With flushed cheeks, she said into the phone, "We'll be there, Nana." Then her eyes met his with a grin. It'd be fun baking with him. "We'll bring the apple pies."

* * *

She sat at the long dining table with him during dinner - he never dined with her, but he always stayed for companionship. Every evening the sweet man insisted on serving dinner before taking her home. He seemed to think he was being sly by feeding her all three meals each day, thereby leaving would-be grocery funds to pay off her own medical and lawyer bills faster.

Her stomach churned thinking about Thanksgiving. Dad always cooked the turkey. He always led the men to the den to crowd around the TV for the football game. She swallowed hard, pushing the food around her plate after taking just a couple bites of mashed potatoes.

Jason laid his arm along the back of her chair on her right. "Do you feel alright, Emma?" His warm hand brushed over her cheek.

She set down the fork and swallowed hard. The empty ache of grief that hadn't been there in awhile suddenly returned full force. A tear splashed onto her lap.

His fingers cupped her chin to turn her head to him. That blue eye held so much concern. "What's wrong?"

Bursting into tears, she held out her arms. He leaned in to hold her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder.

"Ah, angel," he sighed with sadness. "The first year is the hardest. It will be hard for you, your mother, and Nana, but everyone is going to make it through the holidays. Family will be there, and I'll be there too." He pressed his lips to her hair.

Once the tears subsided, he dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief. "Eat a little something, sweetheart," he coaxed.

She looked at the food and sat back in the chair. The thought of eating seemed nauseating.

He sighed and helped her stand to go home.

At her apartment, he sat in the dark on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. "Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'll let myself out with my key after you're asleep."

In the darkness, he was deaf and blind. So she brought his hand to her lips, needing his kindness so much right now that it hurt. He laid down on top of the blankets and kicked off his shoes to hold her. "I love you," he whispered.

She signed in kind against his hand. As she drifted off to sleep, it occurred that he hadn't responded to her words earlier about not having any barriers when they make a baby because he hadn't been able to see her mouth. In the morning. She'd have to tell him in the morning.

* * *

He entered the house with her a week later after seeing the otolarynogolist again.

She smiled when he looked surprised that the front door groaned ever so softly. The hearing device seemed to pick up so many sounds he hadn't noticed before. Taking his hand, she led him into the kitchen to tell Trudy and Pete the good news.

"Emma," he protested. "They're staff. They won't care."

"Of course they do, Jay." She frowned. "They're you're family. They're worried and will be glad to know." She tugged him along.

In the kitchen, Pete and Trudy stood at the counter talking with worry etching their voices. Prince sat at their feet, ever hopeful for food to fall from the sky. They looked expectantly when she stepped into the room with Jason.

She held his hand tight and grinned, just about ready to burst. "Tell them, Jay."

He shifted his weight to his other foot, as if uncomfortable with the conversation.

Wrapping her arm around his waist, she beamed, "His ear healed as best as can be expected, and the device is restoring full hearing on the right side."

"This calls for a cake!" Trudy clasped her hands together in excitement.

"No!" she, Jason, and Pete exclaimed at once.

Trudy frowned. "Or Pete's chocolate chip cookies."

She smiled at Jason, who looked a bit relieved. "Yes, Trudy. Cookies would be delightful."

Pete stepped over and held out his hand with a smile. "That's good to hear, sir."

A smile actually touched Jason's lips as he clasped Pete's hand.

"Been frettin' like a billy goat on a snowy mountain." Trudy snatched an apron up to get to work.

Jason kept an arm around her waist and leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator, seeming intrigued with the clanks and tinkles of the silverwear as Trudy dug through the drawer. His eye followed Trudy and Pete around the kitchen. The icemachine inside the freezer dumped into the tray inside with a somewhat faint tumbling. Jason startled.

She smiled and rubbed his chest. "It's just the icemaker, honey."

Trudy frowned. "Dearie me, it's like a newborn babe learning sounds."

He scowled. "It's not as if I've never heard before. And everyone doesn't need to shout." The poor man flushed a bit with self-consciousness.

Oh dear. She softened her volume. "It is learning what sounds in the house are normal and remembering what certain things sound like. It's alright to need to get used to it, Jay."

Stress crinkled the corner of his eye. He was overwhelmed.

He needed time away from eyes where there was peace and quiet. "Come." She took his hand and led him upstairs.

His shoulders slumped a bit, but he cupped his hand over hers on his arm. "No one sounds the same." So much distress filled those words. "I teleconference for so many group meetings at the Foundation. How am I supposed to know who is speaking?" He stared at the carpet as she walked on his arm down the hall.

It hadn't occurred that things might be difficult for him regaining hearing too. "Perhaps say the cell phone connection is poor and ask for them to say their names when they speak. No one will think anything of it. You'll learn their voices quicker than you think, Jay. It's going to be alright. After a couple weeks, you'll be used to everything." She rubbed his back.

He heaved a sigh and stared at the floor.

In the arboretum, the birds chirped but didn't sing. Stepping close against his body, she smiled and took his left hand. The peacefulness of the birds and roses would calm him. She rested her other hand on his arm and her head on his chest.

He held her close and rested his cheek atop her head. "The birds' wings make noise."

"Yes." A soft smile spread over her lips. "What else can you hear, Jay?"

"Their chirps are crisp and high." His chest heaved a little in a sigh, the stress seeming to melt away. A smile lightened his voice. "Your shoes make a slight tap on the stone."

She sighed in peaceful bliss.

"You hum a tad when you sigh." He lifted his head. "I always felt or saw you sigh - I never heard sound with it.

A soft laugh escaped, and she looked at him. "I - " The words died on her lips.

Such wonder filled his eye. "Your laugh. Laugh for me again," he asked, his voice so intimate and gentle. His dark eyebrow rose with heartache and tears shimmered in his eye. "It's so clear and soft yet hearty and full of joy. Let me hear you again."

Cupping his cheek, she searched his eye. "Honey, why are you so sad?"

He touched her hand and a tear fell down his cheek. "I don't recognize you. If you said my name in a crowd, I wouldn't know it was you."

"Oh, Jay," she cooed, her heart breaking. "It's only been an hour. You'll learn to recognize me. It's alright."

He pressed his lips together and guided her head onto his shoulder. "I didn't even know I couldn't hear. At first the pain narcotics made it so hard to even think. By the time I got off of them weeks later after all the major surgeries, I didn't realize anymore that I wasn't hearing things. I forgot that pebbles crunch under your shoes or that people hum." He cradled the back of her head and nuzzled closer. "I didn't know how beautiful you sound."

"Oh, Jason. I should've asked - "

He pulled back and brushed at his eye. "Wait, I want to hear you like you really sound." He switched the microphone piece to his other ear closer to her and then rested his cheek against her head again.

He just about tore out her heart. She held him tight. "The times when we've watched movies, it's loud, but I thought you just like a surround sound effect or something. When the nurse walked up to you a few weeks ago after you had heat stroke, I attributed you not hearing her because she came up on right side. It never occurred to me that you had difficulty hearing in the left too."

"No one knew. It's not your fault." Then he pressed a kiss against her hair. "Thank you for staying these past couple weeks. I know I've been difficult - "

"You were grieving the SEALS and coping with losing your hearing. You weren't difficult, you were sad, Jason." She leaned back and searched his face. "I don't quite understand if your hearing out of the right was almost gone and hearing out of the left is muffled, why did it make such a difference when the right went deaf?"

"I could hear low tones and feel the vibration of higher tones. Anything as high as a woman's voice, though, I was completely deaf to on the right - the lower undertones I could hear in my other ear. The deep undertones of men's voices came through on the right side, which I didn't realize it until it went deaf."

She frowned. "So the left picks up higher pitches but the right would pick up the low?"

"Yes, but not clearly. Do you remember having an ear infection as a child and things sounding muffled?"

She frowned. "Kind of."

"Like cotton in your ears. That's what my left side is like. Reading lips became just part of looking people in the eye. I just assumed that losing some hearing on the right affected things that much - I didn't know I had true trouble on the left until a couple weeks ago."

Later that evening after work while he finished a business call in his office, she stood in her bathroom and turned on her cell phone radio. Then she stuck cotton in her left ear and plugged the right with her finger. The world went nearly silent. She turned up the phone volume a little. It required intense concentration to decipher the words on the radio. Turning it up higher, the words were intelligible, but some of the background instruments in the song were still gone. A large hand reached around. She screamed and whipped around, pulling out the cotton and dropping her hand.

Jason frowned and turned down the volume. "What on earth are you doing? You'll go deaf listening to it that loud." He handed her the phone. "Didn't you hear me calling for you?" He set a hand on her back.

"Oh. No." A flush crept up her face.

His eye narrowed, and then his brow smoothed. "You used too much cotton."

Her face burned. So he figured out what she'd been up to. Turning up her nose, she gave a haughty look. "Haha, make fun of me."

He smiled. "I'm not. I think it's sweet." He picked up her phone and typed in something. "Here. This is a hearing test app that supposedly works." He took out his ear microphone and tapped as different tones beeped.

Standing on her toes, she peeked. Several of the tones he didn't hear and others just faintly.

Then he put the microphone back in his ear and tapped again. The app played someone talking, the words distant and a bit hard to understand. Then he set it on the counter and pressed a hand over her right ear before tapping the phone again. Various household sounds played and flashed the word of the sound with it. Some of the sounds were silent, including a teapot.

She frowned and looked at him. "You don't hear the teapot when Trudy makes tea in the mornings?"

He shook his head. "I haven't heard a teapot since the fire." Then he frowned. "Come to think of it, she must've set off the smoke alarm a time or two during her baking escapade."

She laughed. "At least daily." Then her smile died. "You never heard it."

With a shake of his head, he let go of her ear and turned off the app.

Tears welled in her eyes. "Is that why you were so silent the past couple weeks? It's so hard to hear anything?"

He shrugged.

"Why didn't you say that's what was going on? I thought we talk about things, Jay."

That blue eye searched hers and then he looked away. "I want to be the man whom you still look at like I'm your hero, Emma." His voice fell to quiet tones. "After my eye and then the pneumonia and the allergies and then the skin transplants and the discharge for being semi-deaf..." He shook his head and dropped his gaze to her waist. "How was I supposed to tell you that I'm almost completely deaf?" His eye slowly rose, searching for the answer in her eyes. "At what point do I stop being a man and start being a thing you have to take care of?"

She looked straight into his heartbroken gaze without waivering. "The day you stop loving me."

A choked sigh escaped him, and his shoulders grew a little stronger. "I'm never going to stop loving you, Emma," he whispered with a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you writing your vows or reading the traditional vows?" Father Bob asked in the church office the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.

She looked to Jason on the couch to her right. "I haven't really given it much thought. I guess I don't have a strong preference." The thought of having to say something so personal in front of everyone made her shoulders tense, but if Jason really wanted it, he shouldn't be denied.

That vibrant blue eye searched her face with such intensity. "I don't quite picture you being comfortable with reading private vows."

A flush crept up her neck and she shook her head. "But if you want to..."

He nodded and looked at the priest. "Traditional vows but no 'obey' in them. This isn't the Dark Ages with the little woman slave," he grumbled. Then he looked at her and said quietly for privacy, "You don't have to, but I'd like to write private vows for our wedding night."

Her face burned with shy embarrassment and her heart melted, but the smile couldn't be contained. Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she nodded. "I'd like that too."

Father Bob spoke up with the next question. "Are you going to have a unity candle? Some couples instead pour colored sand into a jar or don't have anything at all."

Goodness, all the little details that hadn't even been thought of yet. She bit her lip and looked at Jason. "What's the point of either?"

"It's a more recent tradition that symbolizes two people becoming one entity." He didn't elaborate his opinion of the topic.

"That's it?" Those candles in the wedding magazines that Mom had been mailing tended to cost at least fifty dollars. That seemed like a lot for something that would just burn up. Cost. Her stomach dropped. The bride and her family paid for the wedding. Even with the settlement, Mom didn't have spare money for a wedding, and she was still paying off medical and legal bills herself. Oh god. Jason would pay for the whole thing, no questions asked, but he had already shelled out enough money by feeding her three meals a day and everything. To add in the wedding would just feel like...freeloading. She stared at her lap. He didn't have more than a handful of people he was inviting to the wedding, but her family would easily add up to seventy five. The cost of feeding that many people, the venue, the dress, the officant fees...she swallowed hard. How would she afford this? Even if Jason paid for half, it'd probably still be thousands of dollars. Work seemed to average thirty four hours a week. Perhaps picking up a work-from-home job would help cover the bills - a little. Then Jason wouldn't even have to know the extra time wasn't FBI work.

"Emma?" He laid a hand over hers.

She looked up at him and swallowed her stomach. A candle was an unnecessary expense. "Maybe we just skip that." Her gut twisted when he looked a little disappointed.

"Would you like a full Mass or just the wedding ceremony?" Father Bob asked.

"I'd like the full service, if that's alright with you, sweetheart. I'd like for us to have our wedding be the first time we have Communion as man and wife."

She nodded even though the dollar signs kept adding up.

"We don't allow pre-recorded music in the Church. Would you like instrument and vocalist accompanyment?" Father Bob looked at her.

That must be something the bride's side paid for too. She shifted. The room grew warmer each second. Her heart pounded. "Um, would you excuse me for a moment?"

Without looking at either man, she hurried down the hall and out the front door. The cool autumn breeze didn't ease the nerves building, so she started walking down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

A hundred dollars here, a few hundred there...just the basics already added up to nearly a thousand. Next weekend would be dress shopping. Today after meeting with Father Bob would be visiting a couple reception venues and possibly signing the contract - requiring a downpayment. The venue had to be at least a thousand dollars. There was no time to save up that much money in six months. She ran a hand through her hair and walked faster.

Quick footsteps trotted closer. "Em!"

She stopped and drew a deep breath. Jason would be able to read the stress on her face. Rubbing her stomach to calm the ulcer already forming, she forced her shoulders to relax.

He stopped beside her. "Em, what's wrong? You barrelled out of there like you're panicking?" His arm slipped around her waist. "Is it too fast? Do you want to push back the wedding?"

That was the out to buy more time without bringing up the money issue. Yet, it seemed heartless to let him think it had to do with cold feet. She rubbed her forehead and stared at his chest. "No, I just got too warm and didn't feel well." She dropped her eyes and pressed her lips together from that lie.

He didn't say anything for several seconds, as if seeing through it. "The truth, Emma," he said, his tone quiet and a little hurt.

She bit her lip and kept her eyes downcast. He wouldn't forgive a repeated lie, but telling the truth would seem like she half wanted to marry him for his money.

His arm fell to his side. "I thought we talk to each other, Emma. Are you having doubts about us?"

Her chest tightened. Such pain filled his voice even though he tried to keep it steady. Meeting his eye, she shook her head. "It doesn't have anything to do with how I feel about you, Jason. I do want to marry you."

He remained silent, as if waiting for an explanation. Then he looked away when several seconds passed and she didn't elaborate. "Well, I'll tell him that we're done for today. " He didn't move for another couple seconds, the ache from him palpable. "Are we going to reschedule?" The words rang with uncertainty.

Searching his face, she nodded. "It's nothing to do with you, Jay."

"Just enough to do with me that you won't tell me." His words didn't hold anger or accusation, simply sadness. Then he walked back toward the church with his hands jammed in his pockets like he tended to do when upset and deep in thought.

Silence. The past ten minutes in the car on the way to the venues had been painfully silent. Jason rested his elbow on the door and stared out his window, not being cold but giving space even though it seemed to hurt him.

"Jason? Tell me what you're thinking. You seem hurt." The silence with him was new and painful.

He gave a small shrug. "I don't know what to think, Emma. You bolted out when we were discussing wedding plans and won't tell me what's going on. I'm worried that I'm about to be blindsided." He ran a hand through his hair and finally turned his head to look at her. Fear and pain radiated from his gaze. "I have no idea what to be ready for, Emma."

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. He feared a breakup. It wasn't fair to make him worry like that. "It's about money."

"What?" His uncharacteristically informal response portrayed his surprise.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him. His brow furrowed with a deep frown of confusion. "I don't want you to jump in and solve it, but I don't want you worried that something is wrong with us." He simply stared with a blank look. "A wedding is more expensive than I thought. Mom doesn't have money, and between rent and medical and legal bills, I'm as poor as a church mouse. Even picking up another job, there's no way I'll have the money by May for things the bride's family pays for." That was humiliating.

"Em - "

As if it wasn't bad enough to admit to not having the money, he wasn't going to like this next part any better. "No, Jason, just don't. I'm not asking for the money or anything..." The thought of pushing off the wedding made tears burn behind her eyes. "I just need a year or two." She turned her gaze out her own window and blinked back tears from the heartbreak of having to delay the wedding.

"That's all this is about?" He sounded so surprised. "For heaven's sake, that's not worth this stress or tears." He scooted over into the middle seat and slipped his arm around her. Then he guided her head around to rest against his shoulder and held her as the tears fell onto her lap. "What has you upset more: not having the money or having to push the wedding back?"

She sniffled. "Pushing it back. You'll be late thirties before the babies come, maybe fourties if I can't get pregnant. Either way, I'll be about thirty four when it's considered high-risk pregnancy - "

"Emma," he cut in, his voice so soft and gentle. "There's no need to push the wedding back. I already talked with your mother, and the wedding expenses aren't a problem."

She pulled back and looked at him. "What? She doesn't have the money."

He sighed and pressed his lips together, seeming to contemplate a response. "Nana wants to help."

She shook her head. "Jason, Nana doesn't have much either. She lives comfortably but doesn't have an extra thousand dollars laying around."

He heaved a sigh. "Emma, expenses are taken care of. Have what you want for the wedding and don't worry about cost."

She swallowed hard and searched his eye. "You're paying for what they can't, aren't you?"

"Sweetheart, stop worrying about the money," he ordered.

Sitting up, she pulled back and stared out the window as raindrops began splattering in rhythm against the glass. "I'm not marrying you for money, Jason." Although, it would seem so with all the financial problems this past year.

"Do you think I don't realize you're more than capable of supporting yourself _and_ your mother? Your mother has a medical condition and can't work full-time. She lost her only source of income and her husband. You have been through hell these last few years, and you're just down on your luck financially the past few months. Why is it a source of humiliation or loss of independence that I want to take care of my bride and in-laws? I've never met more stubborn, independent women in my life - on occassion it's a bit irritating." His tone held a slight note of a smile.

She glanced at him.

His hand rested on top of hers on the seat. "Even though it scares the hell out of me to need you so much, it doesn't mean you take away my confidence - it's actually quite the opposite." When she didn't respond, he moved on. "Let me do this for us. Your father would've picked up whatever hours needed to give you everything you want for a wedding. He can't so let me, Emma. Even if he was here, I'd still want to help. All I want is to take care of and provide for you, not because I think you need it but because I love you." He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "Why are you afraid that being married takes away your independence?"

She shook her head and shrugged at the window. "There's no need for me to work for income after we're married."

"Em, if you want to keep working, you should. If you don't, that's fine too. Either way it's going to be _our_ bank account and _our_ money. There is no yours and mine."

Her eyebrows rose and she looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

He frowned. "Did you expect separate accounts?"

She shrugged. "Well...yes. You have a lot of money, Jason - "

"And so will my wife." The man seemed so baffled by the discussion.

"Everything will just be there for the taking."

He hooked a finger under her chin to meet his eye and his brow furrowed. "You mean that as scary as struggling financially is, you're also afraid of life being too easy with having money?" He cracked a smile when she nodded. "I grew up far, far below poverty level, sweetheart, and as odd as it sounds, sometimes having so much money still stresses me." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her far arm in comfort. "Our lifestyle isn't going to drastically change beyond what it is. You might have to hold me back from buying our babies every toy in existence - "

She burst out laughing.

"But that's as crazy as I'll be with blowing money." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "If you don't want an extravagant wedding, it won't be. If you do, we have the means. Let's enjoy this, Em."

Somehow he'd managed to make most of the financial worries melt away. When the golf resort wedding coordinator led the way into the ballroom for the reception, her heart stilled. It had a simple elegance to the ivory pillars and wall of multi-paned glass with French doors leading to a balcony that overlooked a vibrant green golf course gupgraded by the snow-capped mountains. Crystal chandeliers hung from the gold-trim ceiling. The ivory-gold speckled carpet brightened the room. If a childhood dream about the wedding day had been fashioned in her sleep, it couldn't be more perfect than this.

"Circular tables seating eight people each would be scattered along the back part of the room," the woman said. "Dr. Port mentioned that you both like roses, Ms. Hoplin. In crystal vases on the center of each table, white and soft pink rose bouquets on top of small circular mirrors would catch the light of the chandeliers. A fifty-by-fifty-foot wood dance floor would be set up toward the front of the room with space for a band and..."

The woman's voice faded away as the reception came to life and family and friends laughed and mingled. It was beautiful and practically perfect.

"Emma?" Jason's voice cut off the daydream. "Do you like it?" He cocked his head with a small smile, seeming to read the pleasure on her face.

"The band and food and everything is done here?" That seemed strange for a golf course to do everything.

"Yes. This room is used exclusively for weddings, so we have a contract with a florist, caterer, etcetera. We use nothing but the best."

Her eyebrows rose and she looked at Jason. This place spoke of money flowing like wine. "And how much is all of this?"

"Well, depending if you want steak, lobster, or - "

Jason held up his hand to cut off the woman. "Don't answer that, please. Excuse us for a moment." He set a hand on the small of her back and guided her across the room. "Do you like it?"

"What's not to like? But this is far beyond what we need, Jay." She bit her lip and looked at the chandelier overhead. It glittered like real crystal.

"Well, what were you envisioning, sweetheart?" A small crease formed in his forehead as he listened.

She held out her hands. This was what most girls dreamed of growing up to have for their wedding, but it wasn't practical. "I guess I sort of envisioned it like the ballroom at home, er, your house."

He smiled. "It's going to be your home too." Folding his hands behind his back, he rocked back on his heels. "There isn't anything smaller than this in the area without going to very, very small - as in less than fifty guests. Would you want the wedding in Chicago instead?"

"No. We're going to live here, so it'd be nicer to have the memories here." She scanned the room and nibbled her lip. "Would you want to have it at home?"

He wrinkled his nose. "I checked flight times for Scotland the night of the wedding, and we'd have a flight at almost two in the morning. Our first night shouldn't be spent rushing through an airport and exhausted. We can spend the night at home and leave at eight the next morning."

She nodded and fought back a blush. Even though the first night he'd once said wouldn't be making love, just the fact of being his wife and in his bed awoke the butterflies in her belly.

"I'd rather not have guests to attend to overnight at home our first night together. My concern with sending them away is people drinking and then driving down the mountain. Here there is a hotel on the grounds." He rested a hand on her arm and searched her eyes. "Do you like the room, Emma? We can tone down centerpieces and other details, if you wish."

She bit her lip. This had to be at least ten thousand dollars, plus food and everything. "Jason, it's too much. The money is better served elsewhere." Like feeding starving children.

"Em." He took her hands and stepped closer. "You looked like you fell in love with it. You ask for so little all the time. Let me give you this."

In good conscious, it was too much to accept.

"Then let it be my wedding gift to you."

Her eyes flew to him. He couldn't be serious.

Tenderness flowed from his gaze. "I vow I won't object if you want to serve hamburgers on paper plates, but let me give you this room. Your eyes lit up, Emma, in a way that I've seen few material things do for you. I'll donate the equivalent cost of this room to children's charities, if you wish."

She smiled. "That's unfair enticement, you rake."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I've heard of bridezillas, but I think you've invented bride-givas."

She blinked. Ah. Bride. Give. Bride-giva. She burst out laughing. "That was terrible, Jay."

He wiggled his eyebrow. "Still made you laugh. So, what do you say?"

Her heart beamed as she turned in a circle to view the room. A smile blossomed on her lips. It was almost perfect. Completing the circle, she met his eye. He smiled as he watched her, making the room glow. It was perfect.

* * *

She rolled tossed some more flour on the dough that Jason rolled out that afternoon for Thanksgiving pies.

He leaned over and pecked a kiss on her cheek, making her flush. The man looked sexy with his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows and those strong hands taking such tender care of the dough. But it was the gleam in his eye that caused a smile. "I love you, princess."

She bit her lip and ducked her head to hide the growing flush. "Behave, Jay. Hurry up with the tops for the pies. The apples are starting to turn brown."

Setting aside the rolling pin, his hand glided under the fragile dough to scoop it up ever so careful in his hands. "My turn to ask a question from the pre-marital counseling sheet that Father Bob gave us. Are you keeping your maiden name or hyphenating?" His voice dipped to a husky, intimate baritone.

Heat curled in her belly. "Should I not change my name to yours?" She took over trimming the edges of the pies and glanced at him.

His chest pressed against her back, and those beautiful hands skimmed down her arms, leaving flour tracks. "Really? I would like that, Em." A kiss pressed where the pulse beat in her throat.

With a giggle, she pressed her shoulder to her ear. "Behave so we can get these done. Of course I'm changing my name."

"The last I heard, you mentioned hyphenating." He swept her hair away from the other side of her neck and nibbled her ear.

"Jay," she laughed. "You're getting flour in my hair."

"I'll carry you up to the tub," he purred and his arms wrapped around her middle. His chest pressed against her back. "May feels like forever away," he whispered in her ear.

"It'll come soon enough, Jay." She smiled and turned to hand him the pie. "Throw this in the oven, and I'll mix the crumbling for the cherry pies."

He perked up and took the pie. "Cherry?" A smile crept across his face.

She laughed, enjoying the glee in his eye. "I take it you like cherry?" A hearty laugh burst forth when he wiggled an eyebrow.

Keeping his fingers out of the cherry filling minutes later was a challenge. "For heavens sake, go check the apple pie." She swatted his hand away again and shook her head when he wandered to the other end of the kitchen.

He cracked open the oven door. "Does bubbling mean it's done?"

"Yeah, grab it out so it doesn't burn." She sprinkled the crumb topping on the pie and then scooped up the pie to take to the oven. Turning around, she squeaked in surprise as she plowed into a broad chest. And dumped red cherry pie down the front of his white shirt. She stared for a moment. "Uh oh." That wasn't going to come out. Looking up at his surprised wide eye, she snorted back a laugh.

His gaze rose from his shirt to her. "You laugh?" he gasped. A smile curled his lips.

Holding a hand over her mouth, she tried to smother the giggles. For once, the regal doctor didn't look so regal. "Sorry. I thought you were by the stove." She took a step back, choking on laughter, when a mischevious gleam filled his eye and he took a step over the pile of goo on the floor. She held out a hand to keep him back. "Don't you dare hug me," she giggled and slipped around the other side of the counter island.

He unbuttoned his shirt that still dripped cherries and dropped it in the sink before turning to her again. "I'm no longer a mess, Ms. Hoplin." His grin grew and he advanced.

She scooped up a handful of flour, her stomach muscles aching from still laughing. "I know that look. Don't tickle me." Holding up her ammunition with a grin, she took another step around the island when he didn't look worried.

Instead, he scooped up a handful of flour too.

Her jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."

He dropped it back onto the counter. "You're right. It's not very gentlemanly to get your sweater full of flour." He bolted over the counter.

She screamed and ran but only made it a couple steps before he caughter her around the waist. Spinning around and laughing hard, she flung the handful of flour at his chest, creating a giant white cloud. When he coughed and let go of her wrist to wave a hand to clear the air, her heart stopped. "Oh god, your asthma." He could have an attack from her doing something that stupid. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the cloud. "I'm sorry I - "

He smiled and gathered her into his arms. And against his white chest.

"You're fine! Jay, you're getting my sweater dirty!" She squealed, needing the support of his strong arms because she doubled over with laughter.

" _You're_ dirty? And just what do cherries and flour pelted at me count as?" He laughed and lifted her onto the edge of the counter, stepping between her legs to be at eye level.

"I didn't pelt the cherries - "

He tugged the front of her sweater, crushing her lips down on his. His arms wrapped around and pulled her close to mold his body to hers.

Her arms encircled his broad shoulders. This sweet, perfectly sculpted man never failed to trigger palpatations. "No mask," she whispered against his mouth. She sighed as her heart stumbled when his arm pulled away and so did the hindrance of the mask. Slipping her tongue past his lips, she sipped his sweet cherry-flavored mouth. He showed no signs of ending the kiss anytime soon. She smiled and mumbled, "What if Trudy or Pete come in?"

He kissed down her neck. "They'll promptly leave the room. Emma?"

She practically purred and melted in his arms. "Hm?"

"Yer attention is wanderin'," he growled and nipped just below her ear.

She grinned from his accent slipping out. "My apologies, sir," she breathed and tilted her head to give him better access.

"Don't let it 'appen again." A naughty smile danced in his voice. He jerked her off the counter and onto his hips.

With a start, she grabbed his shoulders and laughed...and then sighed when he made all thoughts of laughing disappear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Just finished this and have to head to work, so will catch up on personal thank yous later!**

* * *

Mom opened the door of Nana's large two-story house and squealed. "Baby! Oh, I missed you! Look at the pretty bride to be!"

She smiled as Mom practically jerked her in for a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving." Juggling two pies, she returned the hug. Mom, need air," she gasped.

"Sorry, baby." Mom let go, still grinning.

Andy stepped up with a smile and took the pies. The living room inside nearly overflowed with relatives chatting away inside.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Then Mom spotted Jason. "And here's my almost son-in-law!"

She swept the pies from Jason just in time before he was assaulted with hugs too. He smiled his thanks over Mom's shoulder.

"Hello, Becky," he chuckled, seeming to not mind the momentary suffocation as Mom pulled him in for a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Damn, girl. I didn't think he could look happier than the last time I saw him," Andy whispered and took the pies that continued transferring hands through the crowded room and out to the kitchen. Then Andy swatted her arm with a grin. "And you look like you had a fun plane ride, naughty girl. Your cheeks are still red."

She flushed. Jason had been very affectionate with kisses during the flight. "Hush, Andy. He was a gentleman." She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks.

Jason must've caught that part of the conversation because he delivered Andy a stern look as he straightened from Mom's hug.

Andy had her faults for not possessing much of a mouth filter, but Jason wasn't quite as forgiving of the flaw, although he often kept his disapproval to himself. He hadn't commented about Andy being the matron of honor even though he probably wasn't thrilled, bless his heart. Perhaps today he'd have a chance to see Andy's big heart.

Nana hobbled through the crowd and tugged her down for a hug. "I see you have her a blushing bride, JJ." Nana patted her cheek with a grin and then turned her sights onto Jason.

He bent far down to give Nana a gentle hug. "I'm doing my best to keep her happy, Nana."

With a light pinch to his lean cheek to keep him eye level, Nana gave him a stern look. Age may have weathered Nana's appearance, but it hadn't rusted the steel in her voice. "You break her heart and I break your legs."

She pressed a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. Apparently Nana took it upon herself to take Dad's place of threatening the future son-in-law into good behavior. Andy choked on a laugh and Mom turned her head away with a grin.

Jason, however, remained completely serious and held Nana's eyes. "Of course. But she's my world, Nana. To break her heart would be to lose my everything." His voice rang soft and quiet under the hum of the room, reaching only the ears of Nana and herself and perhaps Andy and Mom.

Mom dabbed at her eyes, Andy looked like she fell in love with him, and her own heart melted.

Nana patted his cheek with a smile and then turned to lead the way. "Come, JJ. We need a sturdy man to drain the pot of potatoes from the stove. Emmie, your mother could use a hand with the turkey."

Jason took her hand and then walked up beside Nana to help part the crowd for the women trailing behind.

A couple male cousins, one of them Bill, the egotistical lawyer, blocked the way and whacked Jason's back with a macho thump. A man less muscled than Jason probably would've landed face first on the floor, which probably had been Bill's intent. "So the ball and chain finally got you? Come watch the pre-game with us, Jason."

He smiled. "I'll be there in a few minutes after I help the ladies - " He gestured to the kitchen.

Bill had always been a jerk that even Nana didn't like acknowledging as a grandson. "No, come on. You have your whole life for Emma to whip ya." Bill slung an arm over Jason's shoulders. She tensed - Bill had always enjoyed poking fun at her as the youngest and smallest grandchild.

Jason frowned.

Oh dear. Slurs against women - her in particular - wouldn't sit well, even in jest.

But Jason gave Bill a pitying look. "I guess not all of us are lucky enough to end up with the woman of our dreams. Come on, Em." He shrugged off Bill's arm and pulled her closer to lead the way to the kitchen.

She glanced back to see Bill throw Jason's back a dirty look.

In the mostly empty kitchen, Nana chortled and patted Jason's arm in approval on her way past. Mom gave him a glowing smile for sticking up for 'her baby.'

But she nibbled her lip and stepped closer to him for privacy. "You shouldn't tick him off, Jason," she whispered.

He snorted. "Why? Is he going to beat me up in the parking lot after school? He's all talk and an ass, Emma." His eye traveled over to the far end of the kitchen where Andy, Nana, and Mom resumed cooking.

Laying a hand on his chest to get his attention, she met his eye. "Or he will start rumors or go digging into your past. He's a slimy lawyer, Jay. We don't need him to dig up what happened with the fire."

Cocking an eyebrow, he gave a pointed look. "Emma, I was in sting operations. I know how to handle a grenade like him. I'm not going to pull the pin, but I'm not going to sit by and let him insult you either. It'll be alright." He slipped away to help Mom drain the large pot of potatoes.

Her stomach twisted. She hadn't had her head on straight at the funeral and had already insulted Bill enough. He wouldn't take well to more insults.

Jason glanced over from the sink where steam rolled up in clouds from the draining potatoes. He offered a calm, reassuring smile.

Part of marriage was trusting in the other person. Drawing a deep breath, she let it go. If Jason said he could handle Bill, he deserved to have a chance to prove himself.

Nana laughed a bit later from where she sat at the kitchen table while final preparations were made to the stuffing. "Your beau can yell at the TV as loud as the rest, Emmie."

She smiled and flushed as Andy elbowed her at the kitchen counter. "I've never seen him watch sports." The sweet man sounded like he enjoyed himself down in the basement den.

Another roar of excitement came from the men downstairs.

"Alright, Night Vision Man, which one is Mama?" Jason came up the stairs with her four-year-old second cousin, Jamie, on his shoulders. He winked on his way past.

She smiled and cocked her head as Jason disappeared into the connecting family room.

He returned a minute later with Jamie dangling from under his arm and laughing. "Emma, which one is his mother? He had some pretzels downstairs and said he was itchy. He has a couple hives on his back."

With a frown, she headed for the stairs. "She has an infant and is probably nursing upstairs. I'll go tell her." She held out her arms for Jaime.

"No! I'm staying with Mask Man." He clung to Jason and stuck out his pudgy little lip.

"We're playing superheroes. I'll watch him. He's doing alright so far." He slung Jaime over his shoulder when Jaime started itching. "If he doesn't have any medication allergies or health problems, oral antihistamine should be good enough."

"Having a doctor around is going to come in handy," Mom commented.

She ran upstairs and returned a minute later. "He's fine to have it, she said. They've been watching him for wheat allergies." She started digging on top of the refrigerator through all the medications. "Nana? Do you have - "

"I see it, sweetheart." Jason reached up to his eye level and brought down a bottle of medicine. He read the label and then handed over the bottle when Jaime started climbing down his back. "It's an adult dose. Give two milliliters for him." He scooped up Jaime.

"No! No yuckie juice!" Jaime apparently recognized the color of the medicine and started flailing in Jason's arms to run away.

"It's superhero medicine. It'll make you turn invisible to other superheros." Jason's voice remained calm and full of awe.

Jaime stilled. "You're lying."

Nana smiled. "He's got you, JJ."

Jason set Jaime down and then knelt at eye level and crossed his heart. "If you take it, I won't be able to see you." He whispered behind his hand, "If the other grownups can see you, it means they're not really superheroes. It's a good way to check who is really a superhero and who is pretending."

Jaime's mouth fell open, and he grabbed her leg, tugging her pants and holding open his mouth like a little bird.

She laughed and poured the little medicine cup of liquid into his mouth. "If it backfires, you're in trouble, Jay."

Jaime shook his head in disgust and then looked at Jason, who stood up. "Can you see me?" Hope shined in that little face.

"Well, now that Night Vision Man left, do you need any help, Em?" He kept a straight face but his eye twinkled.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Um, sure. Can you carry over the pan of stuffing?"

He took the pan and gently swatted at Jaime's hand tugging his pants. "There's a bug or something on my pants." With a frown, he stepped around Jaime and kept walking.

"Mask Man, don't you hear me?" Jaime sounded a bit distressed.

Jason set down the pan on the table and then folded his arms over his chest. "I should go check if Night Vision Man went downstairs. I forgot to tell him that he needs to rub his head to take off the invisible cloak the medicine gives him."

Jamie rubbed his head as fast as possible, messing up his brown hair. "Can you see me?"

Jason startled and looked down at Jaime with a wide eye. "Where'd you come from?"

The boy grinned and ran for the stairs. "Come, Mask Man! I have to find the real superheroes!"

"Hold the railing!" Jason smiled and came across the kitchen. He stopped beside her. "I can't keep everyone straight. Which one is his father? I'll tell him to make sure Jaime doesn't get more pretzels."

She bit her lip and glanced at Mom, Andy, Nana, and another female cousin. Everyone tensed. "Um, she kinda had a couple one-night stands," she whispered.

"Oh. I'll keep an eye on him." He smiled, kissed her cheek, and disappeared downstairs. No judgement, no questions, no awkwardness like when other people found out...simply acceptance.

Nana smiled, pushed herself up, and hobbled over on her cane. "He's a keeper, Emmie." Then Nana patted her arm. "When you're back from your honeymoon, I want to know the due date."

She frowned. "Due date for what?" When everyone grinned, her face burned with embarrassment. "For heaven's sake, the wedding isn't even here and you're all planning the date of our first born?"

"I bet ten dollars it'll be a March baby," Nana beamed. Apparently it would be a honeymoon baby in Nana's eyes.

"Hell no. He's gonna wanna have some fun with his wife. It'll be a fall baby." Andy gave her a sly look.

"Andy! Manners!" Her face burst into flames, and she looked at Mom for help.

"A Christmas baby is what will happen," Mom smiled with fondness.

"Oh my god! You're betting on when I'm getting pregnant!"

Jason walked in at that second and stopped in his tracks with a wide eye. He promptly spun on his heel to head back downstairs.

"Oh no you don't, Jay." She caught his sleeve and pushed him back into the kitchen. " _I'm_ going to go watch the game and Jaime." Then she slid past him and hurried downstairs.

"Uhhhh...I'm going to make sure she finds Jaime." Jason's voice carried down the stairs and fast footsteps pounded down the stairs. His arm wrapped around her waist at the foot of the stairs.

"Chicken."

He chuckled and followed her to the family room where almost a dozen of the guys gathered around the big screen. "I'm _not_ discussing our love life with my in-laws." Then he whispered in her ear, "Andy was right - it'll be a fall baby."

Her mouth went dry and heat curled between her thighs as her eyes flew to him.

A rakish smile touched his lips. "I'd rather my wife has time to explore the marriage bed."

The beating of her heart sped up. Even though neither of them had experience, something said that he'd never leave her unsatisfied. Swallowing back the blooming desire, she gave him a haughty look. "A bit cocky, Dr. Port?"

He bit back a smile and hung back from the group for a moment. "Is that a pun, Ms. Hoplin?"

Her eyes widened, utterly mortified. She'd walked right into that one.

With a chuckle, he kissed her cheek. "I'm teasing, sweetheart." A dark look of lust clouded his eye, and his voice fell to a husky burr for her ears alone. "Ay discovered a Karma Sutra book tha' has been most enlightenin'."

Oh sweet heaven. He was reading about Indian lovemaking, one of the most intimate, romantic styles of intimacy? She simply stared at him, her body ready to melt. Sexual tension crackled in the air.

"Ay don't intend ta leave my wife wanting," he whispered and then slipped away to the group. "Jaime, don't stick your hand in the pretzel bowl!"

She stared at his broad back as he fished Jaime's hand out and took the boy to go wash. Her heart started beating again when he left. The quiet, elegant doctor might turn out to be a rakish handful. She wrapped her arms around herself to still the butterflies in her stomach and smiled. Life with him would be interesting in more ways than one.

"Dinner's ready!" Nana called down the stairs.

When Jason cand out with Jaime on his back for a piggyback ride, everyone had already gone upstairs. He smiled and kept a firm grip on Jaime's legs as he followed her up the stairs.

Around Jason, Jaime's mild autism didn't even show. She smiled. Jason was going to be a wonderful father. Before entering the crowded kitchen, she stopped on the step above him and whispered, "I'll ask Nana if you can eat upstairs in the bedroom for privacy. May I eat with you?"

He smiled but shook his head.

Her heart sank. Would this be something that would change after marriage, or would it always be separate meals?

Everyone crowded into the kitchen for grace and then started dishing their plates. Jaime clung to his leg, so Jason followed behind her and filled a plate for Jaime, who was to sit in the kitchen to eat while the adults could choose seats throughout the house.

"Do you want green beans? Wait, dumb question." Jason smiled and scooped a spoonful onto Jaime's paper plate.

"No! Noooooo!" Jaime screamed and threw himself on the floor.

Jason blinked in surprise.

"He has some autism," she whispered to him.

Jaime's mom handed off the baby from across the table and shot over, trying to stop the colossal meltdown while everyone else looked at each other. Jamie never failed to have a tantrum for holiday get togethers. "Jaime, come here. Let's go in the bedroom and calm down," his mom coaxed and tried to pick him up.

"Noooo! Nooooo!" Jaime screamed and flailed.

Jason disappeared for a moment and returned with a small blanket. Then he sat on the floor beside Jaime, completely silent, and threw it over both of JAime and himself, making a tent. A cellphone light glowed from inside.

She looked at Jaime's mom in surprise when the wails calmed a little.

"Did you find any superheroes who couldn't see you?" Jason's voice came through calm and soft.

"Only you," Jaime sniffled.

"Did you check with the ladies? I think maybe Nana is a superhero. Let's go check. Then let's go hunting for superhero food."

"Okay."

Jason pulled back the blanket and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Jaime ran over to Nana and his mother stared at Jason. "I've never been able to stop a tantrum."

He shook his head. "It's a meltdown, not a tantrum exactly. He's just overwhelmed, so stopping stimuli helps redirect his attention. My apologies. I had no idea he was so opposed to green beans." He chuckled, not flustered in the least.

Jaime insisted on sitting beside Jason at the table to eat dinner. She sat to Jason's right and ate while he used the rouse of helping Jaime to get a plate later. Cousin Jennie sat on the other side of Jaime, who ended up wearing Jaime's milk. Jennie handed Jason her newborn girl to hold and went to dry off. Jason held the sleeping baby in one arm and had his other draped across the back of Jaime's chair to coax the boy into eating the green beans.

Just when her heart melted seeing him with the children, one-year-old second cousin Lila waddled over, patted his leg, and fussed as she stretched out her arm to be picked up. Then the sweet little thing sucked her thumb and looked up at him, rubbing a fist against her tired, big brown eyes.

Jason shifted the baby to his other arm, letting go of Jaime's chair.

"No!" Jaime grabbed Jason's sleeve, somewhat possessive of his new best friend.

She smiled and held out her arms to take the baby.

"Thank you," Jason chuckled and handed over the little bundle. Then with one arm, he scooped up Lila, who stood on his thigh and splayed her chubby little hand against the chin of his mask in exploration. He tensed but didn't pull away. His eye narrowed on Lila, as if nervous how the baby would react.

Lila sucked her thumb and stared at his face in hard concentration for several seconds. When Jason offered a tentative smile, Lila gave a toothless grin and bounced on his leg in excitement. Then the little princess buried her face against his chest in shyness.

"Aw, aren't you a bonnie sweetheart?" He smiled and cupped the back of Lila's head to stroke her short curls.

Lila laid her head on his chest to cuddle, still trying to hold onto the mask. Two seconds later, her arm fell and legs buckled in instant sleep.

Jason's arm tightened around Lila, keeping the little princess tucked safe and sound against his chest. Her heart constricted when his tender eyes met hers, his heart so clearly lost to Lila. His voice carried a lump in his throat as he watched her holding the infant. "I want a dozen babies. Carry as many as you want, and we'll adopt the rest."

The room laughed, making Lila startle in her sleep. He eased her down in his arms. "Shhh, it's alright, love," he cooed in soothing tones, instantly lulling the baby back into slumber. Then he shifted his attention to Jaime for a moment. "Excellent, Night Vision Man. You ate those vegetables so fast, I almost didn't even see it happening!"

Jaime's chest puffed out and he stopped making gagging sounds as he chewed the last bite of beans.

Tears welled. Jason truly seemed to mean it that he wanted a house full of babies. Just a few hours of seeing children not fear the mask had broken through the wall of fear around his heart. He had a gift with children and an ability to love them unconditionally at first sight. And the children gravitated to him, almost as much as she did. She leaned over and brushed a kiss on his cheek, never minding who all would see.

He looked at her in surprise but smiled. "What was that for?" He kept his voice low and intimate for privacy in the crowded room.

For everything. For being such a wonderful man. For bringing her dreams to life. For more love than she'd thought possible. But all of that was too intimate, too personal to say in a crowded room. Searching his eye, she whispered, "Because I love you, Jay." Then she looked down at Lila with a smile, the little girl cuddled so warm and safe in his arms. "I think I'm a little jealous of her."

"Ye 'ave no reason ta be," he purred in her ear and then bent his head down to capture her lips in a brief and modest kiss.

"Whoo! You kiss her, man!" one of the cousins cheered. Several others joined in and clapped.

She broke off the kiss after just two seconds and flushed, smiling at Jason. He flushed a bit too but had eyes only for her. "I love you, Emma."

"I love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: In the second scene in his office, I listened to Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts. You'll know which scene when you read it. :)**

 **Catching up on thanks since Ch. 5...thanks, BelieveInAngels, Shadows11, singingsilent, YazmineXD, addcleric, and JustAStranger! I'm glad readers are finding it enjoyable! It's probably the most challenging storyline I've done because I'm trying to make it realistic, which gets emotionally draining. :)**

* * *

This FBI case had stumped Agent Olin's most senior analysts. And now he had thrown it on her shoulders to figure out. Asking for a chance to prove herself hadn't quite meant asking for a chance to crack a case of an IRS hack. The pressure mounted, and the case had only been on her plate for a couple hours. Jason. Talking to Jason about it - as much as legally allowed to - would help ease some of the stress. His presence always had a calming affect. Perhaps sitting in his office to work for a bit would be a good de-stressor.

At that moment, Jason walked in and sat across the desk.

Weight lifted off her shoulders a bit already. It was as if he'd read her mind and known she needed him.

"Em, do you have a moment?"

Stress in his tone made her shoulders tense. "Is everything alright?"

He didn't look ill, but worry crinkled the corner of his eye. The man looked uncomfortable and ran a hand through his hair. "I picked up my messages from the Foundation over the holiday, and Carolyn had called looking for me." He sighed and sat back, his eye focused on her.

Her stomach churned. Carolyn. The ex. Something said she wouldn't like this and he knew it.

"The message she'd left only said it was urgent. I called and just got off the phone with her." He released a deep sigh, as if he hated this conversation. "She was in tears because she caught her husband in bed with another woman over the weekend when he'd claimed to be gone on business. Apparently she took the baby and left." He ran a hand over his face.

Her stomach dropped. There was more to this - more that even he dreaded to say.

"He froze the accounts somehow for some reason, so she has no money. Her parents are away on a Safari in Africa and can't be reached." With a giant sigh, he leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his head. "I offered to put her up at a hotel for a week or two, but I think she's just a mess right now. She asked to stay here for a few nights." He raised his head and looked at her but didn't sit up straight.

She turned her gaze to the computer. Getting cholera would seem like a day at an amusement park compared to having his ex around and crying on his shoulder. Of course he wouldn't cross any lines, but he had such a big heart that he wouldn't see Carolyn crossing lines until she reached the other side of the playing field. But this wasn't just about green jealous monsters, this was about his self-respect of helping someone in need. And it would be a difficult situation for him to be in too. "When is she coming?" The words came out flat and made breakfast threaten to come up.

"I didn't say if she could. I said I wanted to discuss it with my fiancé."

Whipping her head to him, she blinked. "This isn't my house to make a decision about who is welcome here."

"You have every bit of say in this as I do." His gaze didn't waiver and he straightened. "I realize this is incredibly awkward, and you can stay here at night during that time too, if we decide she's coming. I don't want you uncomfortable wondering if anything is going on behind your back."

He deserved to be trusted and treated like the honorable man he was. Still, the idea of having his ex under the same roof at night...it made her skin crawl. Carolyn seemed like a self-serving person. And this had 'motive' written all over it. Keeping her eyes locked on the screen and absently programming formulas on the spreadsheet for work, she shrugged to hide the heartache and worry. "You're a big boy and don't need me babysitting what goes on."

"Emma, that's not what I meant and you know it." His voice held calm patience. "We need to be open about this. I don't exactly want her here, but I can't throw her and a baby out on the street either when she's practically begging not to be stuck in a hotel."

This was his house and his decision, and he wouldn't be unfaithful. "Then that's your answer." She shrugged again.

The laptop pulled away, and he walked around the desk to lean a hip against the edge. "Talk to me. You shut down the moment I said her name. What are you thinking?"

She sat back and stared at her blue jeans. "I know you forgive her for what she did to you, but I don't. She hurt you, and sometimes you still hurt from her. I can't just sweep that away. And then at the store..." She shook her head. "The woman didn't even attempt to hide that she wants you back, and I was standing right there. If you're asking for my blessing, I won't give it. And we are not compromising our agreement about not living together just because she's staying here. I'm goddamn sick of her coming up in this relationship. I will tolerate her presence for a week or two if you let her come, because I trust you." Then she got up and walked out.

It was mean and jealous and unfair, but anger and intense dislike surged up. She glanced at her watch. Fifty five minutes left for a work lunchbreak. Marching upstairs to Jason's gym room, she pulled on a boxing glove and let all of the anger surge out to her fist. The bag barely moved. That was infuriating. She hit it again. The energy compressed the joints all the way up her arm, exploding sharp pain through every joint from her wrist to shoulder. She cursed and grabbed her shoulder.

"You're going to break bones doing it like that." Jason walked into the room.

Yanking off the glove, she threw it down next to the other one and just stood there staring at the ground. Tension coiled tighter and tighter in every muscle, every fiber of her body, just screaming to get out. Her chest heaved and hands fisted, biting into her palms. These irrational feelings of jealousy and anger - some directed at him - wouldn't let go.

He stopped a couple feet away. "Emma, I'll put her up at a hotel. I don't wish for you to be this upset."

It all surged up until everything tinted red with rage. And she exploded. "Am I supposed to be happy?! Goddammit, Jason, she wasn't there for you when you had lost everything! No one knew if you would survive and she walked out!" The rare instance of yelling strained her throat until it burned.

"Do you think I've forgotten?!" Anger burned in his eye. "I brought this up to you because I don't want her here either, but it's the right thing to do! I'm not stupid, Emma. She left in a heartbeat, but now when it's her turn, she expects me to be there. I want you here if she's here! Mainly because I don't want any worry or rumors to get between us, but also because I'm scared!" His chest heaved and he looked away, seeming to realize what he'd admitted.

The red curtain of anger faded just as fast as it'd come. She stared at him in surprise for a moment and crossed the distance to set a hand on his chest. "Scard of what?"

He met her eye with such heartbreak. "That her being here will bring back all the insecurities, all the fear to trust you," he whispered. "I don't want us to break. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Emma."

She looked up into his eye and rested both hands on his chest. "You're not going to lose me. Nothing can make us break that we don't let happen. If you're damn sense of chivalry won't force her into a hotel, I'll stay here. But I won't sit and chat or dine with the woman. Part of me is worried if she sees dollar signs attached to you that all the sudden she's coming back."

He nodded and held her hands on his chest. "It struck me as odd too that she chose me as the one to call."

Resting her forehead against his chest, she swallowed down the bile in her throat. "Are you going to call her now?"

"Do you want to be there for the call? I don't want you to feel like anything is going on behind your back, sweetheart." He pulled her into his arms and held tight.

She shook her head. "I trust you, Jay." It would be hard enough to stomach Carolyn for a week or two. There was no sense in starting the clock earlier than necessary.

* * *

The next morning, she glanced at her watch. Carolyn would arrive any minute. She sat in Jason's study and pretended to work as much as Jason pretended.

The front door closed and Prince's bark echoed through the foyer. She met Jason's stressed gaze. Standing up when he did, she took his clammy, outstretched hand on his way past to the study door. She tugged him to a halt. "Jay, you don't have to talk to her. I can say you're on business and you can stay at my place while she's here. Or we can both stay at my place."

Holding her hand tight, he released a shaky breath. "As much as I want to take your offer, I'm not taking the coward's way out. Come with me?" So much self-consciousness and nervousness flooded his eye.

Even facing brain surgery after the eye exenteration, he hadn't looked this unglued. And she despised the woman all the more for it. "I'll go anywhere you ask, Jay." She gave his hand a squeeze.

He pulled her in for a hug and kissed her forehead. Then he didn't move. After several seconds of silence, he whispered against her brow, "I'm scared, Emma. I don't want those feelings to come back, and I don't want her to create some kind of rift between us."

It broke her heart. "You don't have to do this, Jay. Send her to a hotel or take me somewhere with you. This is not a monster you must conquer."

He pulled back a bit to look at her, sadness hiding in his eye. "She's not a monster, Emma. There are two sides to every story."

She shook her head and searched his gaze. "I will never see the pardons you do for her cruelty. Whether out of ignorance or what-have-you, there are no excuses." Her voice held a cold edge that hadn't even come through when speaking of Gaston. This must be what some of the rage felt like that Jason had toward Gaston's destruction to her. Anger and disgust, but mostly all-consuming protectiveness mounted in her chest. He needed reminders of love, not the negative emotions that Carolyn had already dragged into the house. "I love you. Kiss me. Let me remind you of how beautiful I think you are, of how safe it is." She brushed her fingertips over the cold edge of the mask at his chin. "Just us, Jay."

Tenderness and love and hope chased away the shadows in his eye. A small smile touched his lips - the first smile since finding out yesterday that Carolyn was coming.

She smiled because of his smile and reached up to remove the mask, closing her eyes. But his hand caught hers and stilled it. Opening her eyes, she searched his face. Slight fear tinted that beautiful blue sea looking back at her.

"It's alright. It's just me, honey," she cooed and closed her eyes. Then she eased the mask off and raised onto her toes.

His hand remained intertwined with hers that held the mask, but his lips brushed over hers.

The raw, beautiful power of his scarred and deformed lips touching hers never failed to burst love in her heart. This precious, gorgeous side of him hidden from the world was hers to cherish and protect. These kisses were the moments when her soul could touch his. The fingers of her other hand buried in his hair, and she pressed her body to his. Desire flickered and, in the next instant, roared to a blazing flame. The mask clattered to the floor as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he held her tight. He needed this love, this reminder that she saw only beauty. He deepened the kiss, sweeping her heart away.

A horrified female gasp filled the room.

He ripped away so fast that she stumbled forward a step into thin air. She looked toward the sound. Trudy stood in the doorway with wide eyes of surprise, but Carolyn stood behind with a hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide with horror, and the baby on her hip.

Jason's burned side had faced the door. No doubt Carolyn had been the one to gasp in horror. Anger ripped up and her chest heaved with rage. How dare this woman humiliate him yet again and in his own home. Everything in her vision turned crimson.

Perhaps Trudy saw the danger because she mumbled, "Goodness me, I'm sorry. I knocked and thought it was empty." Then she slammed the door shut in a hurry.

It took several seconds for the blinding red vision to fade away. She turned to Jason.

He stood several feet away with the mask on and his eye staring down at the ground. His chest heaved with fear or panic or both, his mouth slightly open to draw in air faster. A tear formed at the outer corner of his eye and he ran his hands through his hair in distress. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I once promised I'd never subject you to that." His chest heaved, almost on the verge of hyperventilating.

She stared, unable to comprehend what he babbled about. And then her blood ran cold. "Jason - " She reached for him, but he backed away. She froze. Oh god, no. In a single moment, Carolyn had shattered him all over again.

He made a beeline straight for the door in a panic.

"Please," she begged with welling tears. "Don't let her do this to us. Don't choose to believe her over me, Jason."

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "It is you," he said, his voice soft and heartbroken. He didn't turn or let go of the knob. Pain reverberated throughout the room. "I can't ever slip with you and let you risk seeing me. To hear that sound from you would shatter me. To see you force yourself to endure my touch would break me." He slowly looked over his shoulder and met her eyes as her tears fell. "You're what keeps me from being the monster they all see. The only way to protect you from fearing the beast you wed is to never slip, Emma." And then he was gone.

She ran into the foyer. Trudy and Carolyn looked up the staircase. He must've gone that way.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him. I - " Carolyn cut off when she glared at her.

Her blood boiled and hands fisted. "You of all people know what he looked like after the fire. After everything - "

A strong arm wrapped around from behind and pulled her into his study. Then he slammed the door and stood there with his arms folded over his chest. "Stop it," he growled without a hint of patience.

Her blood boiled. "Don't you dare drag me out like a child! She is not coming in this house and doing this to you!"

"Keep your voice down," he snarled and then thrust a finger at the floor, keeping his tone too low to carry far. "She will not know that she's causing dischord between us."

She snorted. "Yeah, that ship didn't sail when you dragged me in here. Goddammit, you piss me off," she seethed and stormed to the other end of the room just to get some distance from him.

"You're not exactly a picnic right now either, sweetheart," he grumbled and leaned his back against the wall.

When she crossed the distance to him, he crossed his arms over his chest, creating a barrier. "You're so goddamn stubborn," she growled and hugged him anyways.

The tension in him faded, and he wrapped his arms around her and released a shakey breath.

"I think that was the stupidest fight we've ever had." She muttered against his chest, needing his hug even though the frustration hadn't waned.

Instead of a chuckle, he cradled her head against his chest and kissed her hair. "You're right, I shouldn't have dragged you out. I'm sorry. I thought you were going to get in an argument or something. I really need you to be my rock right now."

Guilt replaced the frustration. "I'm sorry too."

Sadness vibrated from him. "Emma?" he whispered, as if afraid of his next words. "Do you prefer kissing with the mask on?" Grief filled his voice like he expected the kisses to end.

She closed her eyes as the knife in his heart cut as deep as if it had been plunged into her own. "I ask for those." She raised her head to look up at him. "That's a side of you that you don't let anyone see but me. That's when you're the most vulnerable, when you let me love you the strongest. I don't want that to end." She searched his eye. Wounds from years ago began to bleed. Reaching around him, she locked the door and then set her arms around his waist again, guiding him backwards to the small couch against the wall. "Kiss me," she whispered and pressed him down. "Let me make it safe again, Jay."

His eye searched hers, fear and uncertainty trying to claw to the surface.

Climbing on top of him, she gathered her hair to one side so it wouldn't get in the way. "No mask, no gauze, no anything. Just us."

"It's rude for me to not at least go greet her."

" _She_ was rude." Then she leaned down and brushed her lips against his. "You aren't going out there until we fix us, Jay. Let me in here." She splayed a hand over his heart. Her lips lingered on his chin and then his throat. "I'm safe," she whispered when he didn't respond. Laying her fingers on the mask, she closed her eyes and lifted it away. Her hand bumped his when she reached for the gauze that he already had removed, and he shifted. Something cool pressed against her eyes. His necktie.

"Just to be sure?" A hint of trepidation colored his voice. His words held a slight lisp without the gauze and mask to serve as his lip - a sound that was beautiful because it meant his walls were lowered.

Oh god, Carolyn's reaction had regressed him so far again. The woman held some kind of power over him - a power that even her love struggled to overcome. But he pushed himself to come back even though he was afraid. Wearing a blindfold was the least she could do to help ease his fears. She nodded. Any nervousness of having flashbacks to Gaston faded. Because Jason needed her.

He tied on the blindfold and then grazed his fingertips over her lips and cheek. "You're so beautiful, Emma. You could have any man in the world who could offer you so much more than I. Why do you want this life?"

She cupped his hand on her cheek. The sweet, humble man seemed to honestly not realize his worth. "Because I want a man who loves me and who is extraordinarily kind; a man who is intelligent but humble and patient."

The pad of his thumb caressed over her lip. "Do you know what I wonder, Emma?"

"Hm?"

The fingers of his other hand ran through her hair, as if he was lost deep in thought. His voice vibrated quiet and soft. "I was such a messed up child and teenager that I shouldn't even be the same person. Even until four years ago I wasn't the same. I think perhaps the fire was meant to make me a better man than I was. For you."

Her smile faded and she sat back, stradling his hips. The tie soaked up a tear. The profoundness of his words, of now seeing his injuries and disabilities as a blessing because they had led to her, stole the breath from her lips.

He shifted and body heat warmed her, as if he sat up. His hand cupped her cheek, and his breath blew over her lips. "Tell me what you're thinking, Emma."

Her heart swelled, aching from so much love contained inside for this beautiful man. A tear slipped along the side of her nose, and his finger brushed it away with the softest touch. "I love you." She cradled his smooth, strong jaw. "I hate that you're so frightened of me. Let me touch you. Let me show you that nothing will make me love you less, Jay." A lump in her throat weakened her voice.

He audibly swallowed a couple times and then shifted a bit, digging in his pocket. His mouth must be giving him trouble.

She rested a hand over his in his lap when he stilled. A handkerchief was crushed in his fist. Hovering a hand at face level, she remained still. Perhaps it would seem less frightening if he controlled where and how much. Only once before had he allowed a small portion of his neck to be touched. Even that much again would build his trust bit by bit.

Strong fingers wrapped around her palm and lowered her hand down. Hope evaporated into nothing and her heart fell. He wasn't going to permit it.

Warm, leathery skin replaced his fingers. Her heart stumbled. She must've reached too high, and he had simply been guiding her down. His hand pulled away, although he held her wrist to keep control. Cloth brushed her knuckles. He must've unbuttoned his neckcollar and slipped her hand along the side of his neck. Her heart slammed painfully hard. Moving to feel might scare him away, but not moving might make him think she was disgusted. This moment had played out so many times in her dreams, but now it was here...and fear built over doing something wrong.

"You're frightened." He started to pull away.

"No, I've waited so long for you to trust me. I'm scared I'm going to do something wrong."

He gave a watery laugh and sniffled. "You couldn't do it wrong if you tried, sweetheart," he croaked, his voice thick with emotion. Then he dragged her hand back by the wrist, running her fingers across the pitted flesh of his neck. He stilled. His grip on her losened a bit. He offered her the freedom to touch within the boundaries shown.

Swallowing down her thundering heart, she cupped the left side of his neck for a sense of her bearings. She started to move her other hand but then stopped. The nerve endings where he could feel might be hypersensitive. Biting her lip, her brow furrowed. "Will I hurt you?"

"No." His voice carried soft and gentle like he worried about _her_. "I have no sensation in the burn on my neck. At the edges I can sense pressure but not pain." He released her wrist and cupped his hand over hers. "To feel you," he explained.

Ever so slow, she glided her fingertips along his neck. It seemed fragile without the protection of the thick muscling like on the other side. His jaw being crushed and not having the same strong curve as the other side perhaps gave the illusion of minute muscling too. Questions might be too much right now. Later. There would be time later.

The only difference in the skin on his neck versus his shoulder was the exaggeration of pitting. His shoulder had soft hills and valleys where the skin webbed whereas his neck had areas of tiny mountains and canyons.

A small smile blossomed as she cupped just under his jaw on each side, relishing in the wonder of feeling part of his face for the first time. "I've wanted to hold you like this when we kiss." Her tones vibrated warm and gentle as the emotions swirling in her heart. "I've wanted to feel you kiss me, Jay. I love you." Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. So much love overflowed from an endless well deep inside.

He jerked back enough to break the kiss. "Emma, this is disgusting to touch." He pried her hand away from his burns.

"No, it's just you." Her brow furrowed in confusion. Her hands were returned to her lap. "Jason?" she pleaded. Her heart fell with a terrible, heavy sinking sensation inside. Tears burned behind her eyes. The rejection. Right when her heart had been wide open on the table so he would feel safe to let his guard down, he had shoved her heart back in her chest and slammed the the cage of her ribs shut to keep it locked inside. It hurt even though he had every right to stop things when he wanted.

He lifted the blindfold of his tie away, the mask back in place now. His expression held no emotion, as if they'd just been discussing finances rather than almost overcoming one of the hardest obstacles in the relationship.

She pushed herself up off of him. He obviously didn't feel affectionate right now. Keeping her eyes diverted, she swallowed hard and kept her heart sealed away because he didn't want to see it. He shouldn't feel pressured into anything. "I know how hard that was for you. I didn't mean to ruin it," she whispered, her voice far from as strong as intended. She cleared her throat, struggling to hide the hurt. "I have to get back to work." Then she swept out the door.

Trudy passed her in the foyer. "Mrs. Rush is in the library. I wasn't sure what to do with that woman," she practically spat.

She blinked. Mrs. Rush? That must be Carolyn's surname. Lovely. The momentarily forgotten detail of this houseguest only added more salt to the wound. Gritting her teeth, she forced a calm tone. "Show her to her room. Be kind, Trudy. She is Jason's houseguest." Who could conveniently fall into the nearest hole. A strong arm slipped around her waist from behind.

"She is _a_ houseguest, not mine. Please do as Ms. Hoplin said, Ms. Van Hoodie." His deep voice vibrated against her back. He didn't let go when Trudy left with a grumble. "I think someone is a little hurt." Then he swept aside her hair and planted a light kiss just under her ear.

It took enormous willpower to pull out of his arms and continue to her office. An ache shot up her back from being ramrod straight. "You should go greet your guest." She swung the office door shut behind herself. Only, it didn't give a satisfactory slam. It didn't even click shut. She turned.

He had caught the door and slipped inside with a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "My goodness, don't tell me that you're jealous, Emma. After what we just did?"

After what they had _not_ just done, was more accurate. She threw him a look, sat, and opened the laptop. And heaved a sigh when he walked over. "I have work to do and don't have time to stroke your ego, Jason." She typed in the computer password.

"Stroke my ego?" He sat in the chair across the desk and crossed those wonderfully brawny arms over his broad chest as she pretended to ignore him. A hint of a smile colored his tone. "I was coming to apologize for being so brisk, Emma, not to have my ego stroked. I daresay I'm in the doghouse by default for Carolyn being here."

She clenched her teeth and opened up a spreadsheet where she'd left off reviewing IRS records. Having his ex in the house pining for him, the pressure of this IRS case, and pending PMS weren't a combination in his favor. "She's been here for almost twenty minutes and you haven't greeted her. Go."

He got up and walked around the desk, leaning a hip against it to look at her. All humor dissipated from his voice. "Emma, I'm sorry for earlier. I'm tense with her here and started panicking about letting you touch. As far as her, I'll send her to a hotel if it bothers you this much having her here."

She got up and walked over to the window overlooking the mountains, needing distance from him. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out over the serene scenery where Autumn painted Nature in her vibrant colors. The world looked the same outside when in here it had shifted. "I want you to want to send her away," she whispered. "She's trouble, Jason, and I'm not so sure you see it."

He stepped up beside her and looked out the window, seeming to sense her need to not be touched. "She's only here because it's the right thing to do. There are no residual feelings left for her, Emma. I know this could be trouble, which is why I asked you to stay here while she's here. Tell me what you're afraid of happening, Emma."

An invisible wedge sat between them. If Carolyn hadn't been here, he practically admitted that he wouldn't have shut down just minutes ago."I don't know what I'm afraid of," she whispered. "All I know is things these past twenty-four hours are different between us even though we're trying to pretend they aren't."


	9. Chapter 9

She walked into the library on Jason's arm. Carolyn's horrified reaction had gotten to him - an aire of the isolated, withdrawn recluse he'd been months ago now crept back into him. The woman sat on the sofa with the baby. Although Carolyn had the classic willowy, blonde hair, blue-eyed beautiful look, something about her simply brought to mind the image of a spider.

"I'm so sorry." Carolyn stood, set the baby on the carpet, and hurried toward them.

Jason's steps screeched to a halt, his arm tensed under her hand, and his posture snapped Navy SEAL straight.

She let go of his arm and stepped forward to intercept the taller woman. In one swift move, she linked her arm through Carolyn's and spun them around to go back to the baby. "Show me the little darling." Bile rose in her throat at having to even be near this creature, but there had only been a split second to figure out how to protect Jason from the unwanted touch. She glanced over her shoulder to where he still stood near the door.

The tension drained from his shoulders and a gentle smile of gratitude softened the stress on his face. 'Thank you,' he mouthed and strode over.

Releasing Carolyn's arm upon reaching the baby, she took a step back to return to Jason's arm, keeping herself between him and Carolyn. It seemed incredibly awkward and uncomfortable being in the middle, but absorbing any uneasiness or pain for Jason was reason enough to not move.

Jason slipped a step back to make more room, but he didn't show any sign of recognizing the protection from the black widow spider in the room.

She glanced up at Carolyn, who had the height advantage of looking directly over her to Jason. And groaned under her breath - flowing, crystal-like tears glided down Carolyn's flawless cheeks in a delicate waterfall. The woman knew how to manipulate, which seemed to be a skill that had been mastered well. Her blood pressure shot up. Jason had a soft spot for women in distress, which Carolyn probably knew. She clenched her teeth and her blood boiled. How dare that woman come in here and try to worm her way back to him. Her hand fisted on Jason's arm. He probably wouldn't like it if she gave Carolyn some real tears to cry.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so sorry - " Carolyn purred, her voice a perfect blend of heartbreak and remorse.

Jason, however, must've seen through it. "That's no longer my name." Patience did not exude from his tone.

Carolyn blinked.

Jason wouldn't be moved by that female's tears. A tiny jealous green monster in her smiled inside.

"Has Ms. Van Hoodie shown you to your room?"

Oh goodness, Jason's voice had a bit of a sharp edge that made even her cringe.

"Um, she explained but I haven't found it yet. I didn't mean to offend you." Confusion and a little hurt clouded Carolyn's perfect eyes.

A twinge of pity flickered for Carolyn. She glanced at Jason, whose stern glare didn't waiver. Some backstory was at play here. This didn't seem like him to not soften at least a little under a woman's tears.

"I'll ask her to escort you then. You're free to wander all the rooms on this floor, except for my office and Emma's. Your room is upstairs in the north wing." He clipped out orders as if speaking to a disobedient subordinate.

The north wing. She released a silent curse. That's where her own room here resided. His room lay in the west wing. Perhaps he misspoke - he surely wouldn't put her in the same wing with Carolyn. She'd have to ask him privately about that.

He continued. "When a door is closed, a clear answer is to be heard before opening it. By no means do I expect to find you in the west wing."

Oh dear, he took this quite seriously. It was as if he expected Carolyn to try finding him at night.

"Ms. Van Hoodie will see to anything you need. Good day, Mrs. Rush." He set a hand on the small of her back to leave Carolyn alone with the baby.

A part of her pitied the woman. To have a man as warm and loving as Jason and then to earn his scorn had to be painful. Something from the past had driven the coldness of this conversation.

Carolyn's voice followed, a bit timid this time. "May I ask what is in the west wing?"

He whirled around, his eye ice cold and angry. "It's forbidden," he snarled. Then he swept her out of the room and slammed the door behind them.

She trotted to keep up with his long, rapid strides across the foyer. He held her hand but didn't seem to really register her presence as he stormed toward the stairs. Anger burned in his eye. At the staircase, he scooped her up without a word and shot up two stairs at a time. His legs ate up the distance toward his room.

"Jason?" She looked up at him. Something haunted him, something he thought he knew the answer to chasing away.

In his room, he kicked the door shut and dropped her to her feet, pushing her up against the wall with a hungry kiss before she could lose her balance. His hands fumbled with his red necktie and snapped it off. He reached for her to put on the blindfold.

Panic. No, not when he was angry. Not in a state when a man could so easily get out of control. Her heart slammed. A moment of fear from years ago flickered, and she pressed her hands against his chest. "Stop."

At the flip of a switch, he dropped the tie and took a step back. His chest still heaved with anger and desire. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She lowered her hands and relaxed. His word was enough to calm the fear. "What's going on, Jason?"

He closed his eye and shook his head like he tried to get a memory out. Then he jerked off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt as if racing a memory trying to catch him. Scooping up the tie, he closed the distance and tied it over her eyes. "Touch me," he whispered in urgency and pressed her hand against the burns on his neck. He let go and lifted her onto his hips, pinning her against the wall as his mouth crushed down on hers.

Something had him terrified enough to risk this. His kisses held a desperate need to get lost, to find physical pleasure in the midst of emotional pain. His tongue plunged into her mouth. The more he demanded, the more he drowned and panicked.

Turning her head away, she cradled his head against her shoulder and buried her fingers in his hair. "Stop, Jason. It's alright. It's alright," she soothed.

His chest heaved as he buried his face against her neck. And then his shoulders shook with silent, gut-wrenching sobs.

Looking up to the ceiling in silent prayer for guidance, she swallowed hard and held him in the safety of her arms. Something else had happened with Carolyn - something he still carried that had the power to destroy. "Shhh. I'm here, Jay. I love you."

He holed up in his office all day, his voice carrying through the door on business calls each time she went to his office. Worry over him and anger toward Carolyn provided good fuel for plowing through work.

By the dinner hour, someone knocked on her office door. She bite her lip with hope of it being Jason. "Come in."

Trudy bustled in with a sour face and tray of food. "Don't know why the wench is here sniffing around him like a dog pissin' on a carcass, don'tcha know," she grumbled to herself and set the tray on the desk.

"She's bothering Jason?" Pushing the chair back, she stood.

"Like a rat's nest she is!" Trudy whipped down a napkin on the desk with an offended look. "I'm keeping her away from that poor man. He let me in only to bring him supper. Said to bring yours too so you don't have to dine with the snake."

She blinked. "He called her a snake?"

Trudy jutted out her chin. "I do. She's here to squeeze coins outta him, just like a snake. He says I shouldn't say such things, but I can tell!" She made the sign of the Cross. "Bless his heart, it's gone and welcomed the She Devil into this house."

Biting back a laugh at Trudy's dramatics, she cleared her throat. "Is there more to it than she left him at the hospital?" Picking up the fork, she pierced a potato bite.

"Ohhhh, don'tcha know?" Trudy breathed it like a sin. "I shouldn't say or he'll have my hide strung up like a daisy in May." She glanced at the closed door and whispered, "He called her right when I started workin' here, feeling guilty and all because she thought him dead. He took it quite hard when the hussy asked to be courted again. I think he knew she had more interest in his money than his heart. You shoulda seen her eyes light up like a Christmas tree when she stepped in this house."

Her eyebrows shot up. "She didn't stalk him, did she?"

A deep throat cleared.

Trudy spun around, and her own face flamed at being caught gossiping.

Jason sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk and waved a hand. "By all means, don't let me interrupt, ladies."

She walked around the desk, calm and composed. "I was the one who pressed Trudy, so don't be snarly with her, Jay."

"Forgive me, sir. May I speak frankly?" Trudy wrung her hands.

He waved a hand and then propped his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his fingers. "Have you not been all day?" He cocked an eyebrow.

Trudy bowed her head a little in shame. "Yes, sir. Excuse me." Then she headed for the closed door.

Jason sighed and raised his voice a bit to carry across the room but didn't turn in the chair. "Speak your peace, Ms. Van Hoodie."

She smiled when Trudy flitted over with a happy look that he wasn't upset and wanted her opinion.

"I know you dislike speaking ill of anyone, but Mrs. Rush sits as well as anchovies with me, sir. The things in this house turn her head like a toad with a fly. Not like Ms. Hoplin, who has walked right past the jewel case in your office a dozen times and has never noticed."

"What?" Her head whipped to Trudy. A jewel case?

Jason chuckled. "Ms. Van Hoodie, you disappoint me. I expected it to take her another few months to notice."

Swinging her head to him, she frowned. "Are you two being serious?"

Trudy grinned and clapped her hands together. "Oh, do tell her, sir."

He smiled. "Later. You were saying, Ms. Van Hoodie?"

The smile disappeared from Trudy's face and she folded her hands before her. "Mrs. Rush is trouble, don'tcha know. Forgive me for speaking ill, sir, but she has too much interest in materials. Ms. Hoplin isn't just sweet as a puppy under a Christmas tree, she has a goodness about her too."

Her face burned having Trudy sing her praises, but Jason glanced at her and smiled, adding to the embarrassment.

"That woman has a fakeness, sir. Forgive me because I know she used to mean something to you, but I won't sit by and watch her squash Ms. Hoplin."

She frowned and Jason dropped his hand with a look of concern. "Elaborate, please. I don't quite follow, Ms. Van Hoodie. Has Mrs. Rush spoken ill of her?" His demeanor went from semi-humoring Trudy to dead serious.

Trudy wrung her hands, looking from her to Jason. "No, sir, but she gets this look when I speak of Ms. Hoplin. Ms. Hoplin is like a kitten and Mrs. Rush is like a dog looking to devour her. You, sir, are the steak she's after." Trudy could be a bit dramatic and eccentric, but her judge of character had yet to fail.

Jason exchanged a concerned glance with her and then his eye flicked to Trudy. "Do you believe it's best if Ms. Hoplin is not in the house?"

"Heavens me, as in is Ms. Hoplin in danger?"

His fingers curled around the front of the armrests, an aura of dangerous power exuding from him. "No. I don't believe Mrs. Rush capable of something that horrid. I'm asking if you believe Mrs. Rush would intentionally make Ms. Hoplin's life difficult."

Trudy didn't hesitate to nod. "We heard you and Ms. Hoplin arguing, and Mrs. Rush smiled when she thought I wasn't looking, sir."

A deep, angry sigh escaped him. He looked at her. "Emma, I have to go to the Foundation in California in a few days. I'd rather you don't stay here in my absence, given the situation. Would you like to come with me? You can work from the hotel or the private office I have on-site."

"For heaven's sake, I can take care of myself, Jay. Besides, Trudy and Pete are here if things get out of control." She folded her arms over her chest. "Besides, how bad can she be? You were going to marry her, afterall."

* * *

After only a few minutes in the kitchen with Carolyn and Trudy, her blood boiled. The woman had a way of smiling to keep eye contact while plunging a knife into one's belly.

"Oh, Emma," Carolyn giggled. "Moms know that you have to use bowls for babies for everything."

A bowl for a handful of dried cereal didn't seem necessary for a baby being handfed one flake at a time. Biting her tongue, she glanced at Jason, who stood at the stove helping Trudy finish cooking. Trudy never needed help cooking, only baking. Something said that his presence in the kitchen was for protection due to her being in the room with Carolyn. He showed no sign of having heard the dig. She drew a deep breath for patience and walked across the kitchen to get a bowl from the cupboard. Standing on her toes, she stretched up for a plastic bowl.

Carolyn's high heels clicked closer.

She gritted her teeth. The phrase 'wringing a neck' had never resonated so strong.

"Here, I'll get it." Carolyn's willowy arm stretched overhead and grabbed the bowl with ease. Then she looked down. "You're so little. It's cute." Then the wench patted her on top of the head and sashayed back toward the table with those long legs.

She picked up a small aluminum pot and raised it.

Jason stepped over and swiped it from her hands. "Is California sounding better?" he whispered in her ear with a smile.

Clenching her teeth, she threw him a look.

Not seeming to care about an audience, he bent his head and brushed a lazy kiss over her lips. "Come with me," he breathed and pulled back just enough to search her eyes.

Carolyn's face came into focus past his shoulder. The woman sat at the table and glared. The only other time of witnessing a look so cold had been from Gaston that night at the hotel when Jason had rescued her.

Jason followed her gaze and looked over his shoulder. Carolyn gave a warm, gentle smile. As soon as he turned around, the ice-cold glare returned.

Self-consciousness had crumpled into a pile of dust this past year, but the ashes rose from the dead and slammed into her gut like a wrecking ball. She couldn't be farther from Carolyn in every way possible - Carolyn had willowy curves that height carried off with grace whereas she had few curves and even heels wouldn't make her match Carolyn's height. Carolyn's classic blonde hair and blue eyes against flawless skin outshined her own pale skin and dull brown hair and eyes. Her own quiet, nonconfrontational demeanor welcomed being the one forgotten in a room and walked on like a doormat, whereas Carolyn's demeanor demanded attention and respect. Her gaze fell from Carolyn's. Trudy didn't quite have it right - Carolyn was the powerful lioness and she was the clumsy zebra about to be ripped apart. The woman had somehow come crashing into this relationship and had created so many cracks in less than twenty-four hours.

She looked up at Jason, whose brow furrowed in concern as his eye searched hers. Carolyn obviously still had some kind of hook in him. He'd once been in love enough to want to marry the woman. A sick twisting in her gut said Carolyn always got what she wanted. And the woman wanted him.

The back of his knuckles stroked down her cheek. "Emma," he whispered for her ears alone, "I'm so deeply in love with you that we've become one. We can't be separated." Then a soft smile curled the corner of his mouth and his voice rose to a normal speaking volume. "I find your small frame incredibly sexy and feminine." Then he turned a bit to Trudy without dropping his hand from her cheek. "Ms. Van Hoodie, please bring two plates to Ms. Hoplin's office. I'll be dinning with her."

Her heart nearly burst. It had been months since he'd eaten in her presence. Perhaps this would be the start of having meals together for the rest of their lives. She glanced at Carolyn and her happiness faded a bit - the woman fumed over not being chosen for dinner companionship.

* * *

Instead of dining in her office, Jason picked up the two plates from the desk and offered his arm. Curious, she accepted. He led the way to the dining room, turned on the glistening chandelier lights overhead, and set down the plates on one side of the long cherrywood table. Then he pulled out one of elegant wood chairs for her.

"Thank you." She smiled and sat.

He took a seat beside her but didn't touch his food. Instead, his gaze turned onto her.

She flushed. "You aren't eating with me, are you?"

"I'll eat a little." He popped a tiny red potato chunk into his mouth with a smile. When he swallowed, he continued speaking. "I wished to speak with you privately about California because I'm too anxious to wait until after dinner. Come with me, Emma." Hope shined in his eye. "It sounds vain, but this is what I'm most proud of in my career. The children will adore you, and I wish to show off my beautiful fiance to my staff. Let me show you what all your hard work saved in cracking the embezelment. Some of these children have to come yearly for medical care. I want you to meet them."

He seemed a little too eager for a man who didn't like being in public. "Is there a hidden motive in this?"

A guilty smile crinkled the corner of his eye. "I'm hoping you'll love it as much as I think you will."

Her heart lightened as the stress of the past couple days lifted from his eye. He hardly ever asked for anything and never volunteered talking about his career. This meant so much to him and it was an honor that he wanted to share it with her. "Alright. Let me work a bit late this week to make up hours because I think we'll need a few during business hours for the Foundation?"

A full smile split his lips, shining from the depths of his heart. "If you don't mind. I'd like to take you on a tour during our day hours so you can see it in action during peak time."

She laughed and nodded with a grin.

"Oh, and, Em? I forgot to mention that I want you to sleep in the west wing in the room across from mine. I'll feel better having you near if you stay the night." He glanced at her and then his gaze flitted down to the table, as if uncomfortable with the situation. "I don't expect trouble for either of us tonight, but I'd be more at ease having you within hearing distance. I'll wear the hearing device tonight too, just in case."

She frowned. He wouldn't keep her in the house if he suspected danger...but he would if he worried he might get a night visitor. "Of course." Perhaps she should sleep in his room. "Jay?" She picked up her fork and pushed the food around her plate, her appetite gone. "Let's lock our doors tonight."

"But if you - "

"If I need you, you have a key and you're strong enough to break down the door if you had to." Her eyes traveled up to his. Maybe she should ask to sleep in his room for his protection.

He nodded, the mood solemn. "We'll lock our doors."

* * *

She woke up during the night for some reason. Muffled, hushed voices came from the hall. Glancing at the clock, she frowned. Three o'clock in the morning.

A deep male rumble carried through the wood - a rumble that matched Jason's pitch. Anger tinged the tone.

She tiptoed to the door, pulling on her robe to ward off the chill in the fall night air, and pressed an ear to it. The words leaked through indeceipherable, but he didn't sound pleased at all. A female voice answered...and it didn't sound like Trudy. She opened her door.

A light shined under Jason's door into the hall.

"Get the hell out," he snarled.

"You really think she's here for you? Andy, you won't even let her see your face. These things happen all the time when a woman makes a man fall in love to get to his money. I loved you before then - "

A bitter laugh vibrated from Jason's throat. "And what, you've returned out of love? Just like you promised to love me no matter what while I laid in that hospital bed on a respirator? Until you saw what the flames had actually done. Then you couldn't run fast enough."

She cringed at the cynicism dripping from his normally warm, gentle voice. Tears burned for his wounds that had ripped open again the moment Carolyn had stepped into the house.

"That's not fair, Andy. They were fresh burns and I couldn't handle it - "

"Jesus! You stumbled back from the bed and said you couldn't bear looking at a monster the rest of your life!" he roared.

The breath froze on her lips and her heart stopped. That's where all of his fear about marriage stemmed from - Carolyn's reaction had been such a betryal, such a trauma that he believed it true. It had been ingrained in his mind at that moment that his wife could never see his face because she'd fear him as a beast.

"I was younger and stupid! They said you were going to die! I was scared!" Carolyn's voice quivered with tears that sounded in earnest.

A snort of disgust cut through the silence. "Get out."

"No." Carolyn's voice held conviction.

"Is this what you suddenly desire?!" he roared, so much hurt and rage ripping out of his throat.

Silence.

Things had gone far enough. She whipped open the door. Her feet and heart stopped dead in their tracks.

On the far side of the room, Carolyn wore a long satin nightgown. Her willowy arms clung around his neck and her lips pressed to his. Jason wore only blue pajama bottoms. His hands didn't touch Carolyn but instead held the black ski mask. He had shown Carolyn his face. And Carolyn had kissed him without any barriers - in the way that had been only hers to cherish. Betrayal and humiliation and confusion and a dozen other emotions swept through. But most of all pain that between her and Carolyn, he had chosen Carolyn to reveal himself. That, for some reason, hurt more than walking in on a kiss. And then the shock set in. She stared without really seeing.

"Emma." Jason's voice cut through the numbness.

Her eyes flicked to him. He wore the mask again and strode across the room. Tears burned. Over his shoulder, Carolyn watched with a hint of a smile. The black widow had planned this. Just as Jason reached out a hand, she spun around and hurried out as warm tears ran down her clammy skin.

"Emma," he begged and his heavy footsteps picked up to a trot to keep up. His hand brushed her arm.

She shook him off and practically ran down the hall. Carolyn would relish the tears and hearing the coming argument. Hell would freeze over before she'd give the woman so much satisfaction. Her cotton nightgown billowed as she raced down the steps. The cold marble floor numbed her toes. Her office. It was the closest room. Making a beeline for it, she entered and swung the door shut behind herself. Only it made an odd thud. Dashing the tears from her eyes, she spun around.

Jason caught the door and slipped in, flinging the door shut as his long legs ate up the distance like his only thought was to reach her. Concern and regret and pain reflected in his eye as he stepped forward and reached out to give an embrace.

The hurt swelled, and she took a step back.

The rejection of his touch seemed to stun him as much as if she'd slapped him. His hands froze mid-reach and then slowly dropped to his sides. Fear and heartbreak welled in his blue eye, and his voice quivered. "Emma, she knocked and I thought it was you. We argued and she kissed me. I vow that I didn't kiss her or make advances - "

"I know." She sniffled and wiped away another tear that bled from her heart. Unable to stand the heartache of looking at the cruel reminder of the mask, she turned around and leaned her hands on the front of the desk. "Yet you show her your scars," she whispered.

"Emm - "

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. "Please go." Right now the pain consumed too much and too deep to hear reasons. Right now the hurt needed to come in order to get past it.

"No, please, Emma," he begged, his voice cracking with tears. His hand brushed her upper arm and he sniffled as he stepped up against her back. His arms encircled in a slow embrace from behind, allowing time for a rejection but as if too afraid to not try.

Bowing her head, she shook it. "Jason, it's late and emotions are too high." Talking tonight would cause an argument that would lead to problems that didn't actually exist.

His hands fell from around her waist and the chill of the night embraced when he stepped away.

She closed her eyes for strength that seemed so sparse right now. Turning, she looked at him.

He stared at the floor with a wide-eyed gaze, as if in shock. His chest heaved with so much turmoil apparent in his heart. When his lips pressed together and his eye squinted behind the mask as if he struggled to remain composed, he released a shakey breath and turned to go.

No matter the pain for herself, her heart still belonged to him and felt his paralyzing fear - he thought a breakup waited in the morning. "Jason?"

His shoulders bowed with grief, but he stopped walking.

"Do you love her?"

The man spun around with an eye wide with horror, and the skin around his eye and mouth of the mask holes paled. "No. I only love you, Emma."

Searching his eye, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Then why would I leave?" Her voice held calmness and patience that only love could offer.

He turned toward the door. It was as if relief slammed into him because he silently reached a hand to his right and held a bookshelf to steady himself. His shoulders sagged and his head bowed. "I'm sorry, Emma," he whispered, his voice cracking. Then he hurried out, as if no longer able to hold back tears.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I was feeling like supermom four weeks ago and signed up my little one for an activity four weeknights each week, take on being a Girl Scout leader, and house hunt. I'm tired. I started this chapter the day I posted the last one!**

 **i think I left off at chapter 8...thanks, Believeinangels, YazminXD, JayJay008, addcleric, Shadows11, Misssparrow101, Cloelius Princess, Justastranger, Raven, Brontefan, Waya17, Borntoflyfree, Ramaz, guests, and Princess240! I love it that new readers are stumbling on the story and saying they're tearing through the trilogy in a weekend (although that's too bad about losing your weekend! ;) )! Maybe there is something to this about taking several days to update because I'm getting more than just a couple reviews per chapter! :D**

* * *

She woke up to the moonlight casting a soft romantic glow in her new room across from Jason's. Someone had pulled back a drape, and he knelt beside the bed with his hand cupped over hers on the mattress. She laid on her side. The moonlight behind him only gave a soft silhouette amid the darkness.

He held his head bowed in his hand and didn't seem to notice that she had awoken. The side of his head toward the window glinted moonlight off the midnight black hair. His silhouette had a softness on one side from his thick hair and then dipped down into the sharp, uneven outline of burned flesh where hair on his scalp no longer existed. He didn't wear the mask. A soft sniffle cut through the silence. A turmoil of pain and heartache whirled through the room.

The sadness broke her heart and her stomach clenched. The argument must've really shaken him. He probably hadn't gone back to sleep. The clock behind him read quarter to five. She pulled her hand out from under his and wrapped her fingers around his with a gentle tug to come into bed.

The poor man startled and his head whipped up. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you." His voice croaked through hoarseness.

She scooted back, pulled down the sheets to make room, and held out her hand.

Instead of climbing in, he sat on the edge of the bed, half of his face cloaked in eternal darkness. His gaze glided down her face and over the white cotton nightgown that had ridden up to her knees. "Why?" His whisper carried almost too soft to be heard. "Why do you welcome me to your bed?" The tips of his fingers trailed a gentle, sad, electrifying caress along her arm, over the swell of her hip, and down her thigh to where her legs disappeared under the blankets. "You're so beautiful, Emma, and yet you do not rebuke my touch."

Those words stilled the breath on her lips. "You honestly fear that if you do not keep me blind, I will turn away from your touch?" she whispered and rolled onto her back, gliding his hand to her belly to encourage his touch on her body.

His hand splayed low across her hips, and sadness emanated from him. "Love might make you tolerant for a time, but not enough to take me to your bed. To not keep you blind would be to destroy our chance of creating a family." He stroked her belly with tenderness.

Something deep inside wrenched with grief. "Yet you gave her the chance, and she still kissed you." Her heart beat faster. Pretending it hadn't happened would be so much easier, but it would be the beginning of the end. She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly so vulnerable it hurt.

His hand fell and he withdrew it to his own lap. "That was a liberty I didn't give her permission to take. Kissing like that is for you alone, Emma," he whispered, the regret apparent.

But some kind of bond still existed between him and Carolyn that he had shown his face. She bit her lip and looked away. A fiance should be the one trusted the most, not the one he kept the farthest away from the deepest wounds and fears. The question loomed like a massive dark cloud overhead, so she swallowed hard and braced for the storm. "Why did you show her your face?"

His hand slowly rested over hers. "Striking before being struck hurts less sometimes." Self-consciousness and pain filled his voice. "I wanted to horrify her enough to drive her away, Emma."

She blinked. "I don't follow. She kissed you because of it."

"All the pain came back from when she left. Someone walking away like she did wouldn't have a change of heart years later. I expected revulsion...I need her out of the house."

She reached for him. The sweet man couldn't bring himself to outright throw a woman and baby out of the house.

He scooted back from her touch, as if trying to protect her from something vile. "When I returned upstairs, she had gotten sick to her stomach in my washroom." His voice carried no emotion, just cold emptiness. "She's leaving in the morning, Emma," he whispered.

Oh god, no. Her heart stopped and mouth ran dry. Even Carolyn wouldn't have plunged a knife into his chest a second time... Surely the woman hadn't gotten ill from kissing him.

His voice rang empty with a mechanical hollowness, as if he'd shut down. "You were right. She came for the money. She said she wouldn't be able to endure my touch day after day. Billions of dollars aren't even enough to make a woman as materialistic as her stay. She's right, Emma - I can't make you my prisoner." He kissed the back of her hand, cradling it against his lips in both of his hands. The left side of his face caught the moonlight, and a tear glistened down his cheek.

Her stomach plummeted, taking her heart with it. No. Carolyn had crawled into the cracks of their relationship and drained the life out of him right under her nose, leaving him hollow. And she hadn't been able to protect him. A wall was erecting around his heart, one that Carolyn had masterfully crafted to be impenetrable. Her chest heaved with panic, and so much anger bubbled up. It was as if Carolyn had held up an empty picture frame and convinced him that the monster he saw was a mirror of himself. "Did she tell you that?" she hissed. "I won't be your prisoner, I'll be your _wife_. How dare she tell you lies!" She swung her legs around the bed, ready to crush the poisonous spider in the house.

He set a hand on her knee to stop her. "Emma," he croaked, his voice breaking. "I don't want to lose you, but I can't hurt you."

In a heartbeat, all the anger screeched to a halt. He needed her right now more than he needed Carolyn gone. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her left hand in his thick hair. "You won't lose me." Her cheek pressed against the scars of his face.

Instead of pulling away, his fingers slipped up between her cheek and his scars like he needed to feel to believe that she touched him. He pulled back slightly, the backs of his fingers brushing her cheek as he touched his own cheek and then he stroked hers, as if stunned. As if checking that she actually touched the burned side. His chest heaved and heavy pants cut through the silence. "Emma," he whispered, his voice quivering, "I don't know what she did to me, but I can't find you in this darkness."

Tears burned. She buried her face against his neck, not avoiding the scars. He needed to be touched and loved and held right now. Perhaps in the morning he'd be angry that the rules had been broken, but following them right now would only give credit to Carolyn's words and cause more damage. Carolyn had sunk her fangs in, drowning him in the rancid poison. She sat in his lap and straddled his hips to face him. The moonlight caught the pale blue of his eye. Cupping his cheek on one side and the burns on his neck in the other, she searched his face in the dark. "I'll find you," she whispered. "I love you, Jay."

A warm tear splashed onto the back of her hand. "Emma." His voice cracked and the muscles in his face contorted as he wept. "Promise if you ever see my face that you'll hold back your reaction. You can never touch or look at me again, but I can't handle seeing your disgust or fear."

"My god, Jason, you're not a monster. I love you, and these scars are beautiful." She stroked the warped flesh of his neck from ear to chin. "I feel the calloused scars that have hardened in part from such delicate tissue rubbing against a mask all day. I feel the hills and valleys of charred skin." Then she took his hand and laid it over hers so he could feel her touch not falter as she explored his neck. "I feel the warmth of a man I desire in soul and body."

His breath hitched ever so soft at those last words. Something about his demeanor changed in an instant, as if she had unbalanced his world for the better.

"I feel flesh that has known pain but a soul that had the strength to endure and overcome the impossible." She lightly pressed her fingerstips to the pulse that raced in his neck. "I feel the rhythm where love and gentleness, so much greater than I've ever known, flow. I feel peace, comfort, protection, and love when I touch this flesh. I'm blind not because of the cloak of darkness or a blindfold, but because my eyes are here." She held his hand over her heart.

He sniffled and cleared his throat as he took her hand. "Emma, with the transplants failing and the burns so deep, I do not exaggerate to say I look like a horror film." His voice faltered as he lifted her hand to the back of his head.

Her fingertips brushed over more severely warped flesh. "What is it that you expect? A gasp? A startled jerk?" Her voice rang low and intimate in the darkness. She cupped his head, the thick, uneven tissue unfamiliar. Giving him time to pull away, she brushed a kiss over his lips.

He continued moving her hand, seeming preoccupied with worry.

Her fingers glided over skull that dipped in unnaturally far. She startled and jerked her hand away. "Jason?" Dear god, if his skull was delicate from being reconstructed, the pressure of her fingers might have collapsed his skull. Part of his brain might be exposed...

He touched it himself. "Forgive me. I forget about that and couldn't feel where you touched." He started to move her off his lap to leave.

She grabbed his shoulders. "No, tell me. It scared me because I thought maybe your skull is soft from being reconstructed and I hurt you..." Her voice faded when the white of his teeth glinted in the dark. "You're laughing at me!"

His tone held a lightness, although slight, but still a wonderful sound after all the tears. "Most people would be disgusted, and you automatically think I'm about to perish from head trauma."

"You're welcome for having a fiance who worries about you." She heaved a sigh.

"You still want to be a fiance after that, do you?" The white of his smile grew just a bit.

She lifted her chin. "I'm not giving this ring back."

"Ah. I knew eventually I'd find a bauble that would turn your head." He seemed to need this lighthearted side conversation for a moment.

Her voice fell to a tender tone. "It's what you gave me when you promised Forever."

His smile faded and he cupped her cheek. "And I never meant anything more," he whispered. And then he pulled her in.

The gauze at the corner of his mouth hindered the kiss enough to prevent her tongue from stroking his very much, but the butterflies still took off in her belly. Even in the middle of the night, he tasted perfect with a hint of salt from the tears. She sighed and melted into him.

He pulled back, a bit breathless. "You can't sigh like that."

"Like what?" She practically purred and leaned in for another kiss.

"Like you desire my touch," he breathed against her lips.

"But I do." She softly nipped his lip.

He groaned deep in his chest. "Why?"

"Because you make me feel safe and bring me pleasure, Jay." She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and wrapped her arms around his middle, her breasts pressing against his chest.

His pajama bottoms left little room for the imagination regarding his desire. "Don't tempt me, Em. We agreed that I wouldn't even be in your room." His light, breathless pants puffed into her mouth as he showered passionate kisses over her lips.

"You came because you were upset. That's different." She tilted her head to the side, and the dear man knew exactly where it itched for his kisses. Soft whimpers of pleasure vibrated up her throat, and she buried her fingers in his hair to cradle his head. "Jay, we should stop. In a moment I won't object to anything you want."

He growled and flicked his tongue over the hollow just under her ear. "I want you so much I can't stand it, Emma." He scooped her up and laid her on the bed, climbing on top and pressing her into the mattress. "Dear god," he growled, his weight pressing her into the mattress and his knees spreading hers wide. He kept all contact modest, but passion crackled in the air. His hands clasped hers near her head and interlaced his fingers with hers.

She smiled and bit her lip, relishing these moments when desire made him forget about scars, about being different.

His hands squeezed hard and his head fell back. "I won't last long when we do make love; I love you so much, sweetheart." His hands pulled away and clasped her ribs, as if remembering at the last moment the rule to not touch her breasts before the wedding. Instead, he sat back on his haunches and grabbed her hips. He scooted down her legs and leaned forward, pressing his mouth against her lower belly. "I want to put babies in you, Emma," he whispered.

He would be a man to caress and kiss and talk to her belly during pregnancy. It absolutely melted her heart. Laying her hands on his large biceps, she tugged. When he raised his head in question, she smiled and stroked his left cheek. "I love you. Sleep with me tonight?"

Her soft, tender tone seemed to calm the storm in him. He rolled off and spread out at her side. "It's breaking another one of the rules."

She turned on her side to face him. "Something tells me that you won't sleep well otherwise."

He sighed, turned onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling while holding her hand on his chest. "Am I paranoid to not want to go back? I don't trust her to not bother either one of us."

"Spiders have a way of crawling through the cracks."

He burst out in a hearty laugh. "Spider? Is that what you call her?"

"If the shoe fits..." No hint of remorse came out.

"To be honest, I'm not going to argue with you." He chuckled and tucked his other arm under his head.

She stroked his chest and swallowed down her stomach, her smile gone. "Jason? What happened there to your skull?"

He got up and closed the drape. Then he laid down on the bed and pulled her closer to rest her head on his shoulder. "My body doesn't accept transplants well, even from myself. Bone grafts were taken from my hip to reconstruct my skull when the first surgery failed. That spot in the back of my head collapsed all the sudden after a few days. The bone went into the occipital lobe of my brain. My vision didn't change, so the neurosurgeon thinks it only affects my missing eye."

Closing her eye, she swallowed down the churning in her belly. Each time it seemed like he'd gone through something terrible, some other secret always topped it. "What else haven't you told me?"

He sighed. "I don't like talking about it - "

"But shouldn't I know? For your medical history if you ever get hurt or sick, and just because you need someone to be supportive, Jason."

Silence stretched on. "The external jugular vein burned and a bypass was done using a vein from my leg. The sternocleidomastoid and other neck muscles took the heat, which prevented internal veins and arteries from burning."

She frowned in the darkness and rested her arm across his chest to feel the neck burns on his far side. The skin seemed a bit hard and thick...as if allowed to hypertrophy. It had never seemed obvious but upon thinking on it, he did tend to turn his shoulders too when looking to the left. "The scars and adhesions help support your head. That's why you can't turn your neck very far to the left, isn't it? It's on purpose."

"It is. The neck muscles on the other side have enlarged to help compensate for the weight of my head. It's a balance between stretching exercises to prevent the scars from locking up my neck and from losening them too much." His tone held a bit of tension, portraying how much he hated this discussion.

She leaned up on her elbow, but the darkness veiled the room in complete darkness. Tender emotion swelled from deep inside, a jumble of love and protectiveness and sadness and happiness all swirling together. "Jason?" No words existed to describe how much these moments of intimacy meant, how much they made the bond of love thrive like a rose under the sun. A lump formed in her throat, and she tucked herself under his arm to lie in the safety of his embrace.

His arm tightened around her and he seemed to understand what couldn't be said. The rapid gallop of his heart thundered under her ear, but he captured her hand and laid it against the charred flesh on his neck. His fingers stroked up and down her hand, as if trying to paint the feel her touch in his mind. "You always find me, Emma," he whispered. Then his hand cupped over hers and held her there. "It feels so good to be touched." His voice grew hoarse with unshed tears and then faded away.

Warm tears pooled under her cheek on his shoulder.

* * *

The poor, exhausted man uncharacteristically slept through sunrise in her bed. She slipped out of the room and shut the door, careful to not catch a glimpse of his face and thus break his trust. Then her back straightened and mouth drew tight as she marched to her old room to change out of her nightgown. Half past six. By god, Carolyn would be swept out of this house before Jason awoke.

She sat at the kitchen table for fifteen minutes, the tension of her own muscles creaking her bones before any sounds came of the household awakening.

Trudy entered the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. "Oh! You're up early, don'tcha know. Hungry as a cat on a hayday, are ya?" Trudy bustled around the kitchen. "I'll get some pancakes going for everyone - "

"Mrs. Rush won't be joining us." Her voice rang as cold as ice over the hard surfaces of room.

With a look of surprise, Trudy looked at her. "Oh."

She stood, growing too tense to sit still any longer. "Jason has dismissed her from the house after an incident last night. Is Pete awake yet?"

He walked into the kitchen. "Good morning. Did I hear my name?" His smile disappeared when he looked at her.

The entire room fell silent, Trudy and Pete seeming to sense the seriousness of the situation. "Mrs. Rush is to be escorted out the moment she gets up. I don't care where you take her, but it will be far from this town."

"Yes, ma'm." Pete nodded and exchanged a concerned glance with Trudy.

"If I may be forward?" Trudy wrung her hands and proceeded when given a nod of permission. "I overheard a little last night, and I daresay the woman won't leave before she knows Dr. Port is up, don'tcha know. She plays games and won't go before she deals a killing blow. He would never admit it, but he needs you to protect him this once, bless his heart. I've seen the wiles of the snake, and she hasn't struck full force yet." She made the sign of the Cross over herself. "Jesus would be ashamed."

Clenching her teeth and fisting her hands to keep from smashing something, she tore out of the room and for the stairs. That bitch had come to destroy him, and goddammit, she would not succeed.

She burst into Carolyn's room. The door bounced off the wall with a loud thud. Carolyn shot up in bed. The baby laid on a soft pallette on the floor beside the bed, still sound asleep. "You have ten minutes to get your things and get out of this house." Her eyes burned through the dimness and bore into the woman. The urge to slap the creature almost won. She turned to leave and slam the door shut.

Carolyn laughed. "Ooh, a bit of a temper? My goodness, if a man's head can be turned so easily, you might want to keep a tighter leash on him."

She stilled and drew a deep breath, her body trembling with anger. The spider baited, but she wouldn't take it. Taking another step out of the room, Carolyn's voice cemented her feet.

"I told him last night that I'm leaving this morning anyways, darling. Your eviction is a bit moot."

Whirling around, she swallowed hard and clenched the doorknob, her joints practically creaking with the force. Dear god, Jason hadn't even gotten the satisfaction of throwing the monster out.

The woman flipped her long golden hair over her shoulder. "Take him. That disgusting cripple couldn't bring me any pleasure anyways."

She lunged to tear the beast apart. But a strong hand clamped on her arm and pulled her against a strong chest, dragging her back and slamming the door shut. She spun around and shoved hard on Pete to let her go, everything burning blood red.

Jason released her.

The blood drained from her face and she froze. Oh god, he'd heard those horrid words.

"She's not worth it." He caught her arm, pulled her into a bedroom across the hall, and shut the door.

Her blood pressure shot up. She shook him off, his calmness skyrocketing the rage. "She says that about you and I'm not supposed to do anything?!" The scream ripped out of her throat, startling even herself.

He didn't flinch but just stood there in his pajama bottoms and that goddamn ski mask. "No." The word came out so simple and calm and...defeated.

She surged forward to get to the door, pushing on his chest to get him out of the way. Pain, protectiveness, jealousy and anger, as well as betrayal on his behalf slammed to the surface with wild madness that took over all thoughts of anything else. When he didn't budge, she shoved on his chest, the hurt and rage so desperate to get out in any form. He didn't move. Hurt, outraged tears blurred everything. How dare he not feel he deserved to be fought for. Physical pain burst through the bottom of her fist upon contact with his chest. Goddamn him. Hit. Goddamn that bitch. The fist thuds rained faster and faster, but the outrage and hurt and grief wouldn't pound down with them.

He caught her wrists. She jerked her arms to get free, trying to push him out of the way with her body as the tears welled.

"Emma," he said, so calm and broken.

The pain in his voice overflowed the tears, and she only fought him harder. "No! She's a monster! You're perfect and beautiful - " She yanked her arms away and burst into sobs. Throwing herself at him, she pulled him down and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you."

His arms slowly embraced, seeming stunned by the sudden change. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I love you too, Emma." His hand stroked up and down her back in an easy, soothing rhythm. "She's not worth it, sweetheart. You're better than her."

He was right - the blinding red rage had dissipated under his calming touch. Letting go of his neck and wrapping her arms around his middle, she laid her cheek against his chest and let his heartbeat calm the tears. "If I promise not to beat the shit out of her, promise you'll stay out of sight until we get her out of the house."

He snorted a laugh. "Agreed. Although, it would be a little fun seeing you 'beat the shit out of her.' Something tells me that you may be little, but you're not someone even I'd want to cross."

She poked his belly with her finger and pulled back to brush away the tearstains while he smiled. "Next time you suggest housing an ex, I get to go ballistic on you."

The smile on his face widened. "Deal." Then he pecked a kiss on her lips and kept his head bowed to be at eye level. "And, Em? Thank you for staying. I know it was hard on you." He brushed away a stray tear with his thumb.

"Go so I can get rid of her."

He cocked an eyebrow with a dry look. "There's no reason for you to shoulder this. You've done too much already." When she started to protest, he scowled. "To your room, Ms. Hoplin."

She laughed, a warm sensation spreading inside. "You know, I think I shall miss being called 'Ms. Hoplin' when you're scolding me."

Those burly arms crossed over his broad chest. "Oh, I am entirely capable of the same tone with 'Mrs. Port.'" Except a smile tried to peek through.

"Uh huh."

He threw up his arms in exasperation. "When I'm used to you being my wife it'll be stern." When she laughed, he pressed her up against the wall with his body, trapping her hands over her head.

The laughter immediately melted into breathless pants and her eyes fell to those perfectly soft lips. Her heart took off and heat pooled in her belly as she bit her lip, needing to taste his hot mouth and feel his breath over her skin.

"That's what I thought, Mrs. Port." His low tone vibrated deep in his chest and poured over her ears like warm honey.

Her breath stilled, so mesmerized and intoxicated.

He leaned in and tilted his head, his lips parting just enough to tease. "Tell me what you want." His sweet breath puffed over her lips, reminding her to breathe again.

She swallowed hard, unable to look away from that magical mouth. "Kiss me," she whispered and rose up on her toes as restlessness mounted.

"I will on one condition."

"Hm?" It came out as a whimper, her body humming for his touch.

"You are to believe every word I say each time I take you to our bed." He eased her arms down to her sides and drew his finger over her bottom lip when her eyes flew up to his. His gaze, however, fell to her mouth. "When I tell you that you are beautiful, you do not discredit it. When I tell you that your kisses excite me, you do not dismiss it. When I tell you that you are intelligent, you do not compare yourself to anyone else. And when I tell you that your body pleasures me, you do not hide your nakedness from me."

She tensed and her gaze dropped. Talking about making love without the true prospect of it seemed romantic and thrilling, but actually being at a man's mercy...the thought made her stomach knot and twist with anxiety.

He hooked his forefinger under her chin to raise her eyes. Only kindness and love reflected. "I vow that the first nights as man and wife will not involve sex - they will be simply time for you to adjust to me seeing your body without touching. Intimacy will come in its own time, but not before trust."

Swallowing hard, she searched his eye. The sooner consummation of the marriage was over with, the better everything would be.

"I will not let the monsters come to our bed." His voice held conviction.

"Jason?" she whispered, feeling like a frightened child.

"Yes, sweetheart?" So much patience and concern filled his voice.

"There _are_ times when I do want you." She looked up at him.

His knuckles stroked her cheek. "And those are the moments that will grow longer and more frequent in time, sweetheart." He seemed to want to offer a kiss, but he also seemed to sense that right now she teetered on the edge of falling into panic. Instead, he stepped back and raised her hand to his lips. A tender kiss brushed the back of her hand. "I love you, Emma. I'll slay every last demon that haunts you." His warm voice wrapped around like a blanket of protection and the panic faded away. He slipped out the door with a last loving look.

Standing there alone in the room, everything seemed so peaceful and calm because he had made it so. He deserved the same safety and love. Straightening her back, she opened the door to go crush an itty bitty poisonous spider.

* * *

She stood in the foyer as a wave of nausea hit. Jason's office door remained closed where he must be inside. Pete carried down Carolyn's large suitcase, his expression tight. She drew an impatient breath. "Is she coming?"

"I told her I'm hauling her out in thirty seconds if not." He practically spat the words and yanked the front door open. "She's up there muttering slurs against Dr. Port. Will I be fired if I just put her in the car and give it a push to roll down the road by itself?"

Trudy's soft gasp came from the kitchen behind. "Don't say such things! You can push the car before we put the baby in. That babe is at the mercy of a She Devil, don'tcha know. Would do right if we kept the little thing here. Golly gee me, Dr. Port and Ms. Hoplin could raise her to be a Jesus-lovin' child."

"Hush, Trudy." She glanced up the stairs.

Carolyn floated down the steps with the baby on her hip, giving the illusion of an angel descending from Heaven.

Her back stiffened and her eyes didn't leave the woman. "Pete, please go load the car. Trudy, would you keep Jason occupied?" Pete went out the door and Trudy headed for the office.

Carolyn's foot touched the marble floor, a look of distain ruining her features. "How kind of you to do what he isn't man enough to do himself."

Instead of anger, a calmness settled. How lonely it must be to live with such a bitter heart. Underneath the sneer and revulsion in Carolyn's eyes hid regret. She cocked her head just a hint and frowned, pitying this hollow creature. Her voice held more patience and kindness than it should. "How can you hurt what you love? It won't make the pain of losing him any less by trying to crush him."

Those diamond blue eyes widened for a split instant and then seemed to remember to harden. Her lip curled in a loathing sneer. "And it makes him more bearable to pretend you don't see the monster before you? Oh wait, he won't show you." A smile slithered across her lips. "Pray that you see what horror hides before you're legally bound."

The pure cruelty in those words bled out what patience had remained. For this woman, there were no feelings of anger or jealousy or pity, simply...nothing. She opened the door and stood with a hand on the knob.

Carolyn snorted. "You think you're so much better." The woman strode closer and looked down her nose, those eyes so frigid. "You're nothing but a little puppy he found abandoned and abused on the side of the road."

The blood drained to her feet and the room dipped. Oh god, Carolyn knew about Gaston. She stopped breathing. Her body froze. Ready for anything wicked to happen in this bitter parting, it had never occured that Carolyn would know about this.

"Do you think Andy honestly fell in love with you? It's gratitude for not being alone." Those piercing eyes looked up and down, slicing her to shreds. "If I were you, I'd be willing to take any man too after being rutted like - "

"Leave this house now!" a deep roar ripped through the foyer.

She startled and her eyes whipped to the staircase.

Jason swept down the last few steps and stormed across the foyer. He wore the usual suit and half mask. But outraged didn't even come close to describing his expression. Without knowing better, she'd have feared for Carolyn's life.

Carolyn seemed just as shocked and stood frozen with wide eyes.

He caught the woman's arm without breaking stride and hauled her out the door. "Do not ever speak to my wife again." He practically snapped and snarled.

"She's not your wife!" Carolyn jerked her arm out of his hand and planted herself in the doorway.

His hands slammed against on the door on each side of Carolyn's head, making her jump. Even the baby looked up at him with wide eyes. His gaze ripped through the woman. No doubt if Carolyn had been a man, she would've been knocked out cold with his fist. "If you contact me, I'll slap you with a restraining order. If you even look at my wife or children, I will crush you with a restraining order and whatever else every goddamn lawyer from here to China can come up with." He hissed the words, as if barely able to contain the rage.

Carolyn stared at him with huge eyes of fright. "Andy, why are you doing this?" She took a step forward.

A snort of disgust escaped him. "It's what I should've done four years ago." He swung the door shut, making Carolyn stumble back a step to not get hit. The door slammed in the woman's face and he turned the lock.

She took a step forward and laid her fingers on his back when he stared at the door. Clapping echoed throughout the foyer, and she looked to Trudy standing in the doorway of his office with a huge grin.

Jason, however, didn't seem to notice. He turned around. "Thank you, Emma." He pulled her in for a fierce hug.

"For what?" she mumbled, crushed against his chest.

"For giving me courage to do what I was too afraid to do years ago."

She frowned. "To slam a door in her face?"

He chuckled, as she hoped he would, and pulled back enough to look at her. "No, to not believe her words. And neither should you." He kissed her brow. "I love you, Em."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Some of the little one's activities are ending, so nights are going to free up again! Yay! Found a house too! Yay!**

 **Thanks for all of the reviews! Tip for writers on here: I discovered the hard way that it doesn't let you save a chapter over 10K words. I meant for this and the next one to be one chapter.**

* * *

"Good day, Dr. Port." A thin, beautiful secretary who wore a suit had her black hair slicked back into a tight bun. The woman sounded composed, but a slight look of panic flashed through her eyes.

She stood on Jason's arm on the eighth floor at the front desk of the Foundation corporate office and glanced around. Everyone wore business suits as fine as Jason's and excited whispers buzzed as employees bustled throughout the glass office building. Jason may as well have been a celebrity.

He smiled at the secretary and leaned his forearm on the desk. "You did not forget to write down that I was coming. It's an unannounced visit, Ms. Williams. Is everyone in-house?"

The secretary looked at the computer screen and typed crisp and fast, as professional as her appearance. "Yes, sir. Dr. Brach has surgeries booked all day, though." She glanced up at him, as if waiting for some kind of instruction.

With a nod, he straightened. "Then we shall not disturb him from his work. Everything is in order?"

"Yes, sir."

She glanced up at Jason. Apparently he and this secretary had some kind of ritual established so that this convoluted talk made sense.

He smiled. "Emma, this is our executive secretary, Ms. Williams. She's in charge of keeping this office running smoothly. She's kept us in tip-top shape for the past two years. Whenever catastrophie strikes, she's the go-to for passing along my directions to everyone and overseeing that the job gets done."

The woman smiled and flushed just the tiniest bit under Jason's praise.

"Ms. Williams, this is my fiance, Emma Hoplin."

The smile widened and Ms. Williams stood and extended a hand over the desk. "Ms. Hoplin, a pleasure. Dr. Port has sung your praises, and it's not hard to see why, given the rescue you did with the situation we had here last spring."

The embezzlement. She shook the woman's hand. "It's a pleasure, Ms. Williams. I see that everything here is in very capable hands."

He set a hand on the small of her back, as if getting ready to leave the desk. "Ms. Williams, please direct any calls to my office line but call my cell if there's an emergency. I'll be introducing Ms. Hoplin to the staff. The board meeting is at eleven still?"

"Yes, sir. In the east conference room."

As he led her down a hall, it made more sense why he had asked her to dress in formal business attire. Everyone looked nothing but cream-of-the-crop professional. This place seemed more like a high-profile, for-profit executive office rather than a nonprofit. Apparently Jason ran a tight ship. Each office had a glass wall that connected to the hallway, a glass wall facing the outdoors, and a simple desk with simple chairs.

"We are not extravagant with furniture when the funds can be used to serve the children. The building gradually curves into a U-structure, giving optimal natural lighting to cut down on energy costs. The other side of the building with poorer lighting holds storage. We're on the top floor and the hospital is below us. CT, x-ray, PET and other vault rooms are on the bottom floor on the other side of the hospital where the light is poorest."

The lights overhead were high efficiency and sparse, yet even with the clouds outside, everything seemed bright. "How much of the proceeds are for administration costs?"

He grinned but kept his eyes ahead. "Not counting hospital equipment and the like, ninety-two percent."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And how many beds are in this hospital?"

Guiding her into an office at the end of the hall, he shut the door and led her behind the desk. "One hundred fifty one - far too few for what we need. This is my office. Sit, sweetheart." He pulled out the chair behind the desk so she could sit.

The room looked no different from the other offices, aside from his nameplate on the desk. She sat and he leaned over to startup the laptop. "How much revenue is generated here? How can you have that many beds but that low of a salary budget?"

He typed in the password and then clicked open a slide presentation. "Our stock does very well with philanthropy investments. I own a little more than half our shares, and I reinvest dividends. That pays for the yearly salaries for our seven executive employees." He continued rattling off statistics and flipped through charts on the screen that showed the various breakdowns of everything. "With our volunteer volume, we can run lean on staff but not so lean that we jeopardize patient safety. We've only had one near lawsuit that was a result of a poor physician hire. He got sloppy in surgery due to his ego, but thankfully no irreversible harm was done to the child. Needless to say, he was fired. I hire the best of the best and have each hire go through intense team communication training for a week. Our efficiency is impeccable."

A young woman burst in and stopped in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry! I came to upgrade your laptop, as you requested, and didn't know you'd be here today." Something about her seemed very familiar.

He smiled. "It's alright. I'll show you the rest later, Em. Come on in, Ms. Engels." He closed the program and handed over the laptop.

"Thank you, sir. I'll have it back to you in about fifteen minutes." The poor thing seemed a bit flustered.

"No rush. Emma, I'm sure you remember Ms. Engels. We met her at the hotel in Florida."

The lightbulb lit up and her mouth fell open in a surprised grin. "Did you bring in breakfast at the hotel? Jason told you to call here for a job, right?" She held out her hand.

The girl laughed. "Yes!" She shook hands. "I had no idea who you both were at the hotel. I almost died when Dr. Port came here a few weeks later and everyone said he's the CEO!" Then she seemed to remember herself and flushed. "I'll be right back with the computer, sir."

Jason didn't seem to mind the lapse in professionalism and folded his arms over his chest. "Turns out Ms. Engels has a knack for IT. She's attending university here for computer science and is in the top of her class."

And to think that the girl had been on her way to a downward spiral when Jason had found her. "That's wonderful. Are you enjoying school?"

The girl's face glowed red from his bragging. "Yes, ma'm. I've made a lot of friends too and met my fiance there." She didn't hold out the ring but kept the laptop clutched to her chest. A small diamond glinted in the light.

Jason held up a finger in warning.

The girl sighed. "I know, I know. No getting married until after school and after getting to know him better."

She glanced at Jason and smiled. The girl must not have much for a father figure, if at all, and apparently Jason had decided to fill those shoes a bit.

"Yes. You can't know someone well after just six months." His tone had a fatherly sterness to it. "Please return that computer before my eleven o'clock meeting."

"Yes, sir. Nice to see you, Ms. Hoplin."

"You too." When the girl left, she turned to Jason. "No getting engaged after six months, huh?"

He rolled his eye and waved his hand. "We're different. We're mature adults and aren't still finding ourselves. After everything we've been through, it's like we courted for five years." He smoothed a hand over his suit front.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yes, dear. Well, Mr. CEO, I have a feeling that you brought me here for a reason. Sally forth."

His chest puffed up just a hint and he escorted her out for a tour of the empire he'd built.

By quarter to eleven, her head swam from meeting so many people, and that was just in the corporate office. Everyone seemed so dedicated and passionate for the cause, and Jason seemed to be a much respected leader. If anyone had judged him for the burns in the beginning, no one seemed to notice them now. The man didn't seem to hold anyone to higher or lower standards than himself, and he treated everyone - from the janitor to VP - with the same courtesy and respect.

He escorted her down a hall that looked a bit familiar. Thank heavens - at the end of the hall a wall plate read, 'Dr. Jason Port, Founder and CEO.' At least there would be time to recharge in his office while he went to the board meeting.

Except he turned her down a hall. "The excutives I introduced you to earlier will be here for our meeting, as well as Lionel and some others from the Halloween ball," he whispered as they approached a set of double doors.

She stopped in her tracks, jerking him to a halt too. "Wait, why am I sitting in on the board meeting?" He was up to something.

With a smile and shake of his head, he set a hand on the small of her back. "You won't have to say a word, just listen. I'm not going to put you on the spot with anything, sweetheart."

This seemed highly suspicious. "Alright..."

He led her into the large room that held a massive rectangular table and a simple coffee machine and a couple pitchers on the corner counter. All in all, it could've once been a storage closet. "Forgive me, but the only way for me to see everyone well is to sit at the end, sweetheart." He pulled out a chair that would be on his left and helped her sit. He remained standing to her right. "Would you like anything? There's coffee, orange juice and water."

Her cheeks burned. He was being a gentleman, but it seemed inappropriate for someone to walk in and see the CEO serving her. "Thanks." She stood up, but he set his hand on her arm.

"I'll get it, sweetheart. What would you like?" He headed over to the counter across the room.

"No, Jason, I can do it." She followed to catch him before someone came in.

He stopped and caught her hand, holding her eyes. "Em, first and foremost we are to be man and wife - "

She glanced at the open door and dropped her voice. "And it does not look appropriate for the CEO of a million dollar company to be serving anyone - "

"Emma." His tone grew stern and his brow furrowed in disapproval. "Stop. You are my fiance. I don't care who sees me getting your drink. It's being respectful to a lady."

She bit her lip and relented. "Water, please." But she didn't go sit while he poured the pitcher into a glass cup. He turned and offered his arm, carrying the cup himself back to the table. A group of executive men entered while he pulled out the chair for her again, and a flush inched up her neck. "Thank you."

He smiled and took his seat after she sat. The men exchanged nods of recognition and random chatter picked up as more people trickled into the room. Interestingly enough, when a woman excutive entered the room, the men all stood until she sat. No one seemed to sit to Jason's right, though.

She glanced at him as he resumed his seat and looked at his watch.

He glanced at the door with a frown and leaned over to whisper, "I told Ms. Engels to return the laptop by eleven, didn't I?"

"You did. Did you need a file off of it?"

He quietly drummed his fingers and looked at the door. "I do. We have five minutes. I'll give her another minute before calling." The men stood again as Ms. Williams entered and took a seat to Jason's right.

As if hearing her name, Ms. Engels peeked around the door and spotted him. She slipped in, set the computer down before him, and whispered, "I found a virus in your laptop. I caught it before it replicated in our server, but a bunch of files were damaged."

He scooped up the computer and nodded for her and Ms. Engels to follow as he swept out of the room. In his office around the corner, he set down the laptop and closed the door. Then he sat in a chair on the wrong side of his desk and typed in the password. "A security hack?"

"A trojan. We're looking into it, but it doesn't look like they got any information."

He clicked open the same slideshow file he'd opened earlier. It popped up with a corruption message. "How do we get to the backup?" He tried opening more files that all showed up as corrupted.

"Sir, there is no backup."

He stared at Ms. Engel in horror. "No, no, no, no. I saved it to our server."

She shook her head, looking a bit like the scared messenger. "The bug prevented it from backing up."

"There is backup." Both Jason and Ms. Engels looked at her. She pulled over the laptop and sat in a chair. "Get the head of IT. There are at least five points on a hard drive where it's stored, we just have to see if the trojan got to them."

Ms. Engels grabbed the desk phone and sent a page out.

"You know how to fix this? These board members and three investors flew in from all over the country, and I can't tell them that our annual report is gone." Jason's voice held intense stress, and his tone lowered for her ears alone as he pointed at the desk. "This meeting determines if they give us fifty million dollars that we desperately need for building a new wing on the hospital. Our patient wait list is up to three months, and children are dying before they can get in here. Legally I can't invest anymore into this company without breaking laws. I can't lose this deal, Emma."

"Jay, Jack and I _are_ the virus at work - that's how I hack into systems. If this is a powerful trojan, I have to hijack your server. That means every single computer is going to go down." She locked eyes with him. This was serious, but it was too soon to know how serious.

"Will you get in trouble?"

She shook her head. "Not unless you tell Olin I'm doing an off-the-books hack."

Hope filled his eye. "The hospital is on separate servers. You can take the system down without crashing the hospital."

"What? That's illegal. You can't _create_ a virus - " The girl looked at them with wide eyes.

"She's FBI. If you tell anyone, you're fired," Jason said as a by-blow comment.

"I've never seen anything like this in my twenty years of IT," the IT director said when he came in and took over control of the computer.

She pulled out her cell and dialed while Jason sent everyone out.

"Number," the automated secure line for the FBI office prompted.

"One nine five eight six." The line connected and it rang on the other end for just a moment.

"Jack."

"Hey, Jack, it's Emma. I need you off-the-books. Right now. Close out all of your systems."

"Sweet. What are we doing? Are we hacking Interpol?"

"No. It's a personal favor for a nonprofit. We've got a Trojan Dropper and it's live." Jason looked up from where he leaned over the laptop. Apparently he knew enough IT to know a Trojan Dropper wasn't good. "We're taking down the whole system. Do a scan because I think the goal was a massive financial hack." She put it on speaker phone and opened a backdoor to let Jack remotely enter the laptop.

"Emma, you owe me big." Jack kept his voice hushed. "We don't have time for a remote upload. I'm sending you the bug in your phone. Plug it in and go, girl. Then erase your phone and crush the hard drive. Tell Olin you drove your car over it. He'll be pissed, but you won't get fired - I really did it once."

Her phone chirped. She plugged it into the laptop. The computer went crazy opening every file and program possible.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Jason sounded on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

She started typing on the laptop, blindly coding the bug. "Yeah. We're taking over your system." Probably not wise to tell Jason this was a first for not having a screen to type the code into to see if there were typos.

"Got the target! I'm shutting the door, Emma. You good?"

"Yeah, I got it from here, Jack. Thanks. I owe you."

"Yeah ya do, girl." The phone went dead.

The back of her chair shifted and Jason leaned down. "Do I need to call the banks?" He kept his voice low, but it didn't mask his panic.

"Hold on. Jack found the bug and is tracing it's origin. I'm following its ghost trail to catch it before it can get farther in the system." Programs stopped popping up and then a slew of advertisements flew onto the screen. "What on earth did you download lately, Jay? It installed viruses and malware." Her heart pounded. This grew worse and more complicated each second. The goal of this virus was to take over the system, not just steal the financials. The path this bug had taken through the computer was far beyond anything Jack had ever talked about in his fifteen years of hacking experience. And Jack was the best. And she was still a newbie.

"Jessica sent me a software update via email yesterday that seemed odd. It probably wasn't from her," he sighed.

"Do you have anything on here besides the annual report that you absolutely need, Jay?" Sweat started to gather under her collar.

"No, I can recreate the other files, and we have backups for everything else."

There. More files opened and began corrupting onscreen. The trail had been followed and here was the bug live. It jumped to a spreadsheet filled with finances and began deleting everything.

She typed in the last code, piggy backing the bug without it realizing. Now it could self-destruct. Her shaking finger hovered over the button to crash the whole system, thereby stopping the hack. She bit her lip and sent up a silent prayer. If this didn't work, the door would open for a slew of computer hackers. The company could be robbed blind within seconds, the moment the button would click.

"Emma?" A calmness flowed through his tone.

Propping her elbows on the desk, folding her hands, and bowing her head for a moment, the panic swelled. Her heart slammed painfully hard. If this didn't work, Jason would lose everything and likely have lawsuits and worse. All the children who would lose medical care and die because their families couldn't afford to properly treat their burns or fix debilitating cleft palletes... Even Jason didn't have enough money to pay for everything these children would need. Oh god, what had she just done? She looked at the screen that flashed more and more programs as the virus shot deeper and deeper into the server, now jumping from Jason's files to another user's.

He knelt beside the chair and set a hand on her back. "Emma, you and Jack are the best Olin's got for this. Some things can't be fixed. If it doesn't work, we'll pick up the pieces and start over."

Oh god, he didn't understand there wouldn't be pieces. There would be nothing left after lawsuits and public humiliation. Maybe they should've left the bug and tried to clean up the mess rather than cut it off to keep from spreading. She and Jack had never done a hijack of this magnitude. This had only been done by the FBI a handful of times - two of them being her and Jack with a fifty percent success rate. It was too late to turn back now. Bile rose in her throat. He would forgive her for anything, but destroying the hospital and sentencing children to death...that would be unforgivable in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jay," she whispered and hit the button.

The computer went dead. Commotion started in the hall and the IT director's and Ms. Engel's cell phones started ringing outside the door with reports of the computers going down.

She swallowed hard and hit the Restart button, burying her face in her hands. Each second ticked by in slow motion. Dear god, what had she just done?

A warm hand rubbed her back. "Emma, it's alright. It's my fault for downloading that email. I knew better. You did more than anyone else could. It's alright if this doesn't work."

Her cell rang. Jack. She picked it up, bracing for the news from Jack that they had just destroyed Jason.

"Hey! I tracked it to Florida, then Germany, then Africa, then China, and back to Colorado. We got the address, girlie!"

The blood drained from her face when he rattled off the address - Jason's address. Her eyes flew to Jason. "What time?" Her voice quivered.

"Uhhh...five in the morning. Why?"

Her heart stopped. Jason had been in her room at that time. He looked at her in concern. "Jack, was it through email?"

"Let me see..." Typing filled the background. "Yeah, but it looks like it was uploaded from a USB or something. Man, this is a doozie. This baby could've taken evein the FBI down, Emma. I've got it secured and am going to send it to our IT forensics team. Mother fucker, this was programmed to drain all the accounts and send them to an offshore one."

"And it was sent from in the house?"

"Had to have been."

"Is the system clean?"

"Don't know until ya start up, girl."

Jason typed in the password. No one moved. She couldn't breathe as he clicked on the annual report file.

It worked.

Jason grabbed her shoulder, almost collapsing with relief.

"Oh god." She released a huge sigh. "I think you did it, Jack."

"I just opened the door, you did the rest, girl. Hell of some fast typing you must've done to program it before it killed the system. Send me a pizza for dinner tonight and we'll call it even."

"Thanks." She hung up and turned to Jason, her hands still shaking.

He held up his hand. "I think I know what you're about to say for how it happened. I can't talk about it until after this meeting. Come on, sweetheart." He planted a big kiss on her lips. "Thank you, Emma. You saved this place. Again." He grabbed her hand and the computer. "Tell Jack I'll send him ten pizzas."

So Jason had heard. He hid the betrayal well. It had all been a game to Carolyn - a game to steal his billions and take him down. No wonder why the woman hadn't been distraught over getting thrown out on the street - there probably hadn't really been any fight with her husband.

In the meeting, she stared at Jason, as mesmerized by him as the rest of the room as he passionately argued with the investors and board, championing the cause in a way that no one but a founder could.

"You had an insider embezzling, Dr. Port. Why on earth would I want to dump my millions out the window when I can give it to children's hospitals and missionaries who won't have some employee take it?" one of the older men asked.

Every single person in the room froze. So the word had gotten out.

Jason, however, remained as calm as ever and clicked open the slideshow, which presented on the far wall. "The FBI lended expertise in that, Mr. Brown. We had noticed suspicious activity and it was escalated up to the FBI's finest financial analysts. Our system is well maintained by some of the best IT staff - "

"And you have the FBI on staff now to ensure this breech doesn't happen again?" he smirked.

The other investors looked incredibly leary now.

She glanced at Jason and raised her eyebrows in question to step in on these baileywigs who seemed to sense how much their money was needed. And seemed to enjoy being needed. These men spoke money. Well, so could she.

Jason nodded and clicked forward a few slides to financials.

She folded her hands and leaned her forearms on the table. "Gentlemen, let's stop playing mercenaries and talk about what you're truly interested in - your profit; how this hospital will make you filthy rich and not within twenty years. In five."

"You have my attention." The eyes of these men lit up.

"Dr. Port said that your investment purchases fifteen percent of the shares altogether. Fifty million is on the table. That's a gamble for anyone. The return rate in this Foundation right now is six percent. That's three million in pocket change to split among all of you. That's a very poor move, gentlemen." She turned to Jason and held out a hand for the laptop to be scooted over.

His eye widened as much as everyone else's in the room. It sounded like she was talking them out of the investment.

She pulled over the laptop and typed in some numbers into the graph. Profit bars shot up from the bottom to the top of the graph. "Invest one hundred million, and your profit margin is going to shoot to thirty-two percent."

"And how is it that you propose this occurs, Ms. Hoplin?" one of the other men prompted.

She sat back in her chair. "You like risk and you like gambling, or you wouldn't be sitting here. We take that extra fifty million and invest in solar panels to help run this hospital. The electric bills that I saw last spring can be cut in half. We partner with other hospitals solely as a group purchasing organization so we can buy medical equipment at cost. What we pay in GPO fees we save twice in purchases." She glanced at Jason, who probably wouldn't like these ideas being thrown out before discussion with him, but this deal was falling dead out of the sky and there was only one shot to revive it. Jason seemed intrigued enough, so she continued. "Build another wing of the hospital, and we increase bed space..." She looked at Jason.

"Fifty beds." He sat forward, as if realizing that progressive ideas with return investments was what these men ultimately cared about. "We open internships to universities, creating partnerships for resource sharing. Plus, we get medical staff coverage for the very nominal salaries that interns are paid, saving on the higher salaries of physicians and specialists. We become a fellowship hospital. We pick the best of the best each year and offer them positions here. Then we waste no money on paying physician salaries for them to go through full orientation for a week because they did it as interns. Our name will spread through universities so we become rivals with teaching hospitals. We expand a little now so that within ten years we can open satellite locations world-wide." Jason saw the vision and ran.

Sitting back, she watched Jason light up as he elaborated. This was the man who could see what others could not, who could make the world a better place because his intellect knew how to steer a dream to reality. Nothing stood in his way, not because obstacles didn't exist but because he knew how to use them to his advantage. To think that as a child he'd been told he'd never be anything but a deadbeat drunk like his father...and that four years ago he'd lost everything and had been fighting for his life, holding on because the thread of a dream had kept him going. Now that dream dangled the possibility of going world-wide to save hundreds of children. Her heart swelled with pride and joy for him. And fell in love all over with this beautiful man.

The men practically drooled as Jason finished. The Foundation promised return. With what Jason proposed, the Foundation promised a world-wide empire.

These men dangled at Jason's fingertips, and she couldn't help but smile. "Are you smart enough to get in on this at the beginning, or do you prefer to call us again in a few years when shares will be gone?"

"Ms. Hoplin, you never answered my question about the FBI and embezzlement," the oldest man pushed.

If Jason needed her to peek at records now and then to keep these men happy, so be it. "Is that not a question for Dr. Port?"

His dark brown eyes looked straight through her. "He turned that question over to you, Ms. Hoplin. What is your background?"

An observant man. "Forensic accounting, Mr. Brown. And yes, Dr. Port has had me peek at the accounts from time to time. Your investment will be sound, gentlemen." That wasn't admitting or denying to being FBI.

The men wrote something down on paper, nodded to each other, and handed it to Jason before stepping out.

Jason still didn't move after the door closed. In slow motion, he unfolded the piece of paper and stared.

She sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for him to let her have it in front of everyone for making promises that hadn't been preapproved by him or the board. Or for making promises that had crippled the deal. "I'm sorry, Jason. I shouldn't have talked about a GPO or reviewing the books like you aren't competent, " she whispered. "I didn't mean to cause problems - " When his eye rose to meet hers and he just stared, her stomach dropped. Oh god, they'd denied it altogether.

"Two hundred million," he breathed and turned over the paper for everyone to see.

Cheers of excitement burst out from everyone at the table. She simply stared at him as people patted her and Jason on the back, but none of their words sank in.

"They took your deal plus some." He seemed stunned. Then he shot up. "They took your deal!" he hooted in excitement and pulled her up in a hug.

"You're not mad?"

He pulled back and grabbed her by the shoulders with a grin. "Mad? That you promised things I don't know how the hell we're going to do?"

Everyone laughed.

He wrapped his arm around her to stand at his side. "Mr. Drogan, have your team figure out how we get in on a GPO. Mr. Smyth, get your marketing team on this internship thing and work with the legal department. Mr. Frenworth, go tell finance to get ready for a big-ass check to come through! Ms. Williams, get them to legal to sign the papers now before they change their minds!" He stared at the paper like a piece of gold. "Holy shit!" Then he stomped his foot and planted a big kiss on her lips.

Everyone laughed. And Jason was on Cloud Nine.


	12. Chapter 12

"This is the lobby where everyone comes when they first arrive." He led her out of the elevator into a world of rainbow color on the first floor of the hospital. Waiting chairs shaped like animals, receptionists in bright scrubs, lights hanging down like palm trees, murals of oceans and fantasy characters...anything any child could possibly adore decorated the room. Even the carpet touted ABCs and different themes. Sections of the lobby seemed geared to ages one through eighteen. All of it seemed impeccably clean.

The receptionists glanced up and smiled. "Hello, Dr. Port. We didn't realize you'd be here today."

He smiled. "An impromptu visit." After introductions, he swept her along to the pre-surgery wing, which had just as much color and cleanliness.

"One thing that I hated about being in the hospital was lack of color. It's depressing enough without having to stare at white walls all day. It's thought that particularly for babies, color stimulates brain development."

Next came the surgery and radiation suites, physical therapy room, and play rooms for children who were recovering enough to color or play board games. Her heart fell when he led her into a small chemotherapy infusion center.

A handful of children, no more than ten years old sat in the chairs, their little heads hairless and little bodies swimming in hospital gowns that seemed too big now from weight loss. A couple children had parents sitting with them, and a couple others just had the nurses. A golden retriever therapy dog wandered the room on a leash, seeming to know his duty to make rounds and give each child a chance to pat his head. One child's eyes lit up. "Papa?"

Her eyes flew to Jason in surprise.

He smiled, his eyes in the girl. "One child started calling me 'Papa,' so now that's what the children call me," he whispered and headed over.

He knelt down beside the plush chair the child sat in. "Hi, Minnie."

The girl giggled. "I'm Sasha."

He snapped his fingers, clearly teasing. "Doggone it, I thought I had it right this time!"

"You always forget my name." The girl seemed to find it so funny.

"Do you know what I didn't forget?" He pulled a little ring box out of his pocket.

The little girl gasped. "You remembered it's my seventh birthday! Carrie got a birthday present yesterday morning. When mine didn't come this morning, I was sure you'd forgot about me."

He frowned. "Forget about my Becky? I don't think so."

The child laughed. "Sasha! I think you need your head checked."

Jason laughed. "Some days I think you're right." Everyone in the room smiled.

She clasped a hand over her heart watching the two of them. Of course he'd remember a little girl's birthday whom he hadn't seen in months. Never mind that he was CEO of a multi-million dollar company and lived states away and had a hundred other things on his mind. This is why the Foundation flourished - because Jason remembered the power of simple acts of kindness.

The girl grabbed the box and lifted out a little rainbow crystal necklace. A gasp far too big for her body came forth. "It's a butterfly!"

He laughed. "I did remember that you like butterflies." Then he looked at the other children and dug in his pocket. "And here's a surprise for everyone else too." He handed Sasha and the other children little suckers that they promptly opened and started to eat. "They're sugar-free antinausea suckers that we give all the chemo children. They're less apt to vomit and get dehydrated later," he whispered to one of the mothers, who must be newer because she didn't seem as relaxed as the other moms. Then he smiled at all the children. "Do you know what I heard today is?"

The children practically jumped up in their seats and the nurses had to hold them down. "Santa!" they all cried.

He smiled. "Yes, Santa called me this morning, and he's coming this afternoon with presents!"

The children screamed in excitement.

"Dr. Port," one of the nurses scolded.

He looked sheepish and held a finger to his lips for the children to quiet. Then he waived and slipped out with her.

"Where are the other parents?" she whispered with one last look through the door.

His smile faded. "Some children come from orphanages. Others are dropped off by their parents until the end of treatment because the families are so poor that the parents have to stay home with the other children and work." He fell silent for a moment and kept his eye forward. The topic seemed to bother him. "We have sort of surrogate parent volunteers who come spend the day with the children, but we can't have them sleep in the room because of sexual harrassment liability. At night we pick up a couple extra social workers because nighttime is when most of the children get homesick. We don't have enough to go around." He heaved a heartfelt sigh and wrapped his arm around her. "I hope we can hire more now with that money."

"Is Sasha doing well? She seems to know you, and you aren't out here that often." She bit her lip, the pit of her stomach already knowing the answer.

He shook his head. "She came to us a year ago with stomach cancer. It's spread to her brain now, but we're hoping to get her in a clinical trial that has a ten percent success rate." His voice came out flat.

"You don't think it'll work."

He met her eyes. "Ten percent," he repeated, so much grief in his tone.

She swallowed hard and looked at the floor as she took his hand. "Trudy said you had a two percent chance of living." She glanced at him.

His gaze returned forward and his demeanor stiffened. "Ms. Van Hoodie was not at liberty to divulge that. It no longer matters anyways, and it's far different than having cancer." He seemed very attached to this little girl, almost beginning to mourn her already.

"My point is miracles happen every day. Faith is what built this place. Do not mourn what is not gone, Jay, or you'll miss what's here." It was as if he'd wanted to stay with the children a bit longer but had a hard time being there.

His footsteps slowed and he stared at the floor for a moment. "She was three. Our first cancer patient. Brain cancer. She was the smartest little child and loved climbing on my back. She didn't seem afraid of the mask, or even the scars when she knocked the mask off once. I used to give the children piggy back rides to their rooms after treatment. I was here weekly back then. One day I gave her a piggy back ride after chemo and she didn't laugh like usual. She said she didn't feel well and asked me to stay in her room that night. She was an orphan, a ward of the state. There was no known family to call to come say their goodbyes. She - " His voice broke and he brushed away a tear, pulling her along down the hall. He remained silent for several moments and didn't seem inclined to finish.

It hurt to see him grieving for someone who had been taken too soon. With the miracles of this place also came the devastation - devastation that he did not shirk from carrying when he so easily could pass it off to staff.

She followed him to a sign pointing to a burn unit. He quietly sidestepped an empty gurney, and she took the moment of closer contact to rub his back in comfort. Then he resumed walking.

"She wanted a parent more than anything," he continued. "Of course there wasn't time for it to be legal, but I promised to be her father. She climbed in my lap and stayed there all night. She died in my arms five hours later." His voice held a measured mechanical-ness, as if he'd break down in tears otherwise.

She slipped an arm around his waist and brushed away her own tears. "She's why you're called 'Papa' now, isn't she? You let all of the orphans call you that and the name has just taken hold with all of the children?" He didn't comment, but he didn't need to.

The burn unit was a large circular room with only curtains for privacy. Children with amputations or other visible scars sat in bed or watched television on a far screen. A couple were on respirators. He dropped his voice. "This is the burn ICU. At this time, we don't have the capacity to handle severe traumas. We don't use walls for the most part so the children get used to being seen in their new physical states. Most of them are less self-conscious that way and heal faster emotionally. Some don't do well here, so we have some private rooms. Most of these children in here today are heavily medicated for their pain, so that's why this room is so quiet."

She linked her arm through his, protectiveness swimming up. He likely helped design this room, based on his own experience of not wanting these children to suffer from self-consciousness the way he did.

He led her into a different room of the burn unit. Here the children sat up in their beds or played at a building block table in the middle of the room. A boy about twelve years old wandered over on crutches and wore sweatpants but no shirt. His small chest bore terribly pink burns and the foot he held up almost dangled in an unnatural way. "Hey, Papa."

Jason smiled and ruffled the boy's brown locks. "Hi, Tim. How are you feeling today?"

She blinked. Despite Jason's daily absence from the hospital, he seemed to know most all of the children. It wouldn't be a surprise if he receiveed daily rosters of hospital patients because that was just like Jason to be that involved.

The boy looked up at him with a smile. "Pretty good. Did ya hear?"

Jason sobered and bent down to at the boy. "I did. Are you alright?"

The boy readjusted his crutches and grinned. "Nurse says the girls will be giving me lots of kisses for it." But he swallowed hard.

"It's alright to be scared, Tim." He stood and set a hand on the boy's back. "Come walk with us." He set a hand on her back too as they stepped out. "This is my fiancé, Emma. May I tell her what's going on?"

Tim shrugged. "Not like I care. It's not a sob story or something." The boy seemed to put on a tough front to hide the pain.

Jason pointed for them to go into an empty patient room across the hall. "Tim came about four weeks ago. His parents had an argument and his father was going to throw a pan of boiling water at his mother. Tim tried to stop him. His mom didn't make it out of the fight."

She held back a horrified gasp. Dear god, he'd witnessed his mother's murder by his father on top of being burned himself.

"His foot was crushed by the cast iron pot, which was still burning hot. We tried to save his foot but aren't having much luck, eh, Tim? He's having an amputation tomorrow."

Her heart broke for this poor child. But he just looked at them, tough as nails. "My old man is in the slammer and he can rot in hell."

Jason rubbed the boy's shoulders from behind, careful to not disturb the burns. "How are you liking the counselor?" He wisely changed the topic.

Tim shrugged. And then his lip quivered.

"Tim, it's alright to cry." She touched his arm, unsure if she should hug him.

He spun away and wrapped his arms around Jason's middle, dropping his crutches. "I'm not crying!" But tears ran down his face.

Jason simply held the boy. "No? I think I cried five times my first week in the hospital."

She pressed her lips together to hold back the tears. From what Jason had described of his own childhood, this boy probably was a lot like himself - troubled, strong, and heroic deep down. Dammit, Jason hadn't said she should've brought ten boxes of tissue along on this Foundation visit.

The floodgates opened and the boy buried his face against Jason's chest and sobbed.

Jason met her eyes for a moment. This boy struck close to home for him. Jason's grip didn't waiver.

She stepped closer and set a hand on Jason's shoulder and the other on the boy's back. "I think he's the bravest when he cries."

Tim looked up in surprise. "Why?"

"Because I know how scared he is, but he's brave enough to face what frightens him." She rubbed Jason's shoulder and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Jason offered a sad smile and then looked down at Tim. "It helps to let it out. I'm mortified that she sees me cry, but it's also comforting to have a safe place to let it go. Keeping it all bottled inside makes you angry and isolated, lad." He stroked Tim's hair.

The boy turned his head and looked at her through tearstained eyes. "My mom used to give me a hug and say it would all be better in the morning."

She glanced at Jason. Perhaps the boy wanted a motherly figure to comfort him...or perhaps it would make him even more upset.

The corner of Jason's mouth curled up a hint and he let go of Tim.

Holding out her arms, she caught Tim as he hopped on his foot and flung his arms around her middle. Even though the boy came up to her shoulder and probably weighed nearly as much as her, he needed a mother figure right at this moment. And her heart so instantly melted as she hugged the boy. Having only known him for five minutes was enough to fall in love, all the motherly instincts of love and protection welling up from deep inside.

She stroked Tim's thick brown hair and cradled his head on her shoulder. "It'll be better in the morning, Tim, and even better the next morning and the next. Do you know why?"

He sniffled and shook his head.

"Because after surgery, you can finally start to heal. Once your leg is better, you'll have a prosthesis so you can walk and run again."

"But I don't have money." Tim looked at her with wide eyes.

Jason stepped closer and set a hand on Tim's back. "Money doesn't matter here, Tim. Did you think you'd be on crutches your whole life?"

That innocent face crumpled and he nodded. And then he burst into uncontrollable tears of relief, burying his face against her chest and holding fistfuls of her shirt at her back.

She held him tight and looked up at Jason with tears on her lashes.

Jason simply swallowed hard and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, offering that silent strength that he so readily gave to each soul he touched.

After meeting more children in the unit, the world felt like a thousand pounds sitting on her shoulders. How much these children endured, many of them without parents at all or without parents present. The staff seemed to deeply care for them, but there simply were not enough hugs to go around enough times.

"This is the last unit. Then we're done, Em." He set a hand around her waist, as if sensing her emotional exhaustion.

He opened a swinging door, and her heart fell. Three little incubators and half a dozen rainbow cribs filled the room. A few weak cries made it into the air and faded away. An infant intensive are unit. Oh god. Tears blurred everything and spilled over.

"Let's go back upstairs, Em." His tone held as much exhaustion as she felt.

But he had brought her here for a reason. "No, I'm alright." She brushed at her eyes.

A monitor started beeping for a baby on a respirator. A couple of the doctors and nurses hurried over.

"We can come back later." He wrapped an arm around her waist and started pulling, as if in a hurry.

She planted her feet and looked up at him. Stress and grief wrinkled the corner of his eye. "What's wrong with him?"

He pulled her into the hall, using his strength to keep her feet moving. The door swung closed and he ran a hand over his face, looking so absolutely drained. "She. I forgot she was still here. She has severe cystic fibrosis and came to us a few days ago. She was on our doorstep, and the police don't have any reports of missing children. We didn't expect her to make it through the week."

A nurse came out and the beeping had stopped. The woman stopped short upon seeing Jason. "Oh, Dr. Port. Hello."

He nodded. "Nancy. How is she?" He tensed, as if bracing himself.

"Dr. Froch thinks she'll go in a few minutes. Excuse me, I just got an emergency page for surgery backup." The nurse ran down the hall.

"Wait here a moment." He disappeared through the doors. And she peeked inside.

The physician tended to another baby while two nurses and a woman in a volunteer smock checked on the others. Jason whispered something to the doctor, who nodded. A nurse checked on the dying baby and then moved on to a baby who started crying.

Jason stepped into the hall. "Are you alright finding your way back to my office? This hall curves back around to the lobby with the elevators. I need to stay here for a few minutes." His shoulders slumped, as if bearing a burden too heavy, and he didn't make eye contact.

"You're staying with her, aren't you?" Something in her chest hurt deep inside.

He kept his eye downcast. "The staff had a retirement party for one of the nurses last night at a restaurant. About twenty people are out with food poisoning, so we're understaffed today. Go on upstairs for a bit, Em."

He shouldn't have to do this alone. Her hands shook a little. The only times ever seeing someone die had been in movies. Dad had seemed peaceful when she'd seen him just moments after he'd passed. With cystic fibrosis, maybe the baby would gasp and suffocate in a horrible death. Maybe she'd be in pain and try to cry. A baby deserved to be held and loved while leaving this life, no matter how much it would rip her heart out doing it. And Jason deserved to have someone there too. She took his hand, needing his strength in order to give him strength.

He searched her eyes for a moment, as if at war with himself. Then he turned and opened the door.

She clung to his hand, her heart racing. The infant might be able to sense that she had no idea what to do with a baby, much less one near death. Maybe the baby would sense her fear of loving it and of ending up with a broken heart in only minutes. She wasn't cut out for this. One of the nurses who knew what to do, what to say to comfort a dying baby, would be a better option. Only there was no one else. Jason stopped at the sink and washed his hands, glancing at her as if showing how to do it exterm thoroughly. She copied and then followed him over to the incubator where he unlatched the top. The baby was no longer on the respirator.

"Should we gown?" she whispered in his ear so as not to disturb the baby while she slept.

He shook his head. "She'll be gone by the time any infection would set in." His voice rang hollow. He slipped his hands under the tiny little being, supporting her head and being careful of all the tubes coming from her small body. Then he backed up and sat in a blue rocking chair, careful to adjust the baby in his arms just so.

She frowned and watched in curiosity as he undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Then he undressed the baby into just the diaper. She sat down on the windowsill beside the rocking chair as he held the baby against his bare skin and tucked the blanket in.

With the tip of his finger that dwarfed the baby's neck, he felt the pulse as the small chest struggled for air. "Sweetheart, would you grab a new syringe from the top drawer?" He spoke slow and soft, his smooth baritone calming her own nervousness.

When she handed over the syringe, he leaned over to the medical cart and grabbed a vial. Then he filled the syringe and injected the I.V. line with the smallest bit of medicine. "It's a small dose of morphine." He capped the syringe and handed it to a nurse who stopped over.

She leaned forward to peek at the baby, who still seemed to sleep peacefully. "Does she hurt?"

"I don't know," he sighed from the depths of his soul. In the past few minutes, he had aged. Lines wrinkled the corner of his eye and his brow that hadn't been there this morning. He cared, perhaps too much for his own good. Each child he cared for as his own. The baby seemed at peace against his chest.

Ever so careful, she touched the newborn's little fist. If not for all the tubes, this baby looked perfect with all the perfect little chub and perfect smooth skin. "What's her name?"

He slowly rocked and gazed down at the infant. "Mary. We thought she could use the extra blessing." A note of tenderness exuded from him.

Holy Mary. Her gaze traveled up to him. "Who named her?" But the answer was already so clear.

He stroked the small fist peeking out from under the blanket. "I did," he whispered, still admiring the baby.

She scooted closer to look at Mary. "Do you have her against you to keep her warm?"

His lips pressed together for a moment, as if struggling to remain composed. "Yes. And sometimes it seems to give dying babies comfort."

A tear fell from her lashes. So this wasn't the first time he had ushered an innocent little soul to the next life. "May I hold her for a bit?"

His eye lifted to hers, a bit red-rimmed from unshed tears. "Are you certain? She's getting close, Emma."

What had seemed so terrifying moments ago, he had made seem safe and peaceful. Mary needed someone now more than ever, and Jason needed a moment to not have to be the one to shoulder the burdens of the entire hospital. She stood.

He carefully manuevered with the tubes and then eased the baby into her arms after she sat in the chair.

Leaning forward with care, she watched the baby for signs of awakening. "Would you unzip my dress a little, Jay?" She shook her hair to the side so he could reach the zipper at her back.

"Em - " His voice cracked.

She shook her head, unable to look at him without crying. "She has no mother. This is how I would want to hold my baby in her last moments." She sniffled.

His warm hands glided the zipper half way down her back, and he fetched a nursing blanket to keep her decentso she could shrug down the front of her dress.

Mary stirred a bit, her fragile body already growing cold. The bra prevented much direct skin contact. A need rose up - a need to protect and love, her heart knowing no difference between biological or not for this baby. She unclipped her bra. The moment of skin contact, Mary's breathing fell into a relaxed rhythm and a tiny fist rested on her breast as if to hold on. That little mouth latched on and tried to suckle for a moment. The world shifted in that instant and could never be the same.

"Jay, I think she's hungry."

"Is she trying to nurse?" His voice cracked.

She shook her head and looked up at him in confusion. "She's not sucking now."

His face threatened to crumple and he brushed at his eye. "She's probably never been held like this. It's likely comforting for her to hold on." He held a hand to his mouth and turned away for a moment.

Fresh tears burned. Such a simple act, and how much it meant to this little baby. And how much it seemed to mean to Jason. "It's alright, Mary. I won't let go," she whispered, soft and melodious to keep the infant calm. She tented the blanket to keep an eye on Mary nestled snug inside. Jason knelt beside the rocking chair.

The blanket slid off her shoulder. Her eyes remained on the baby, but Jason's presence offered serenity and strength as he caught the blanket and tucked it back in place. With anyone else, it would have been embarrassing to have exposed herself with a baby on her breast. But with him...it seemed so natural and peaceful.

He stood. When she looked up, he turned and stepped over to the window, offering his back. His hand lifted near his face, as if brushing at his eye. He remained still for several moments. His breaking heart reached across the distance.

"Jay?"

"I hope we never have to do this again, Emma." His thick voice cut straight to her heart.

She looked down at Mary and swallowed hard. The thought of losing a baby...

Mary's chest convulsed.

She reached out and caught his hand. The fear rose up again.

Mary seemed to calm.

He stepped closer and knelt down without letting go. His other hand laid over the baby through the blanket.

She looked at him. Tears fell from her lashes and he came into view again, only concern and love and grief looking back at her. "Is she going to get scared?"

He shook his head and bowed it for a moment. A tear splashed onto his pants. Then he lifted his head and the blue of his eye seemed to gleam brighter against the redness from weeping. "Carb..." He had to clear his throat. "Carbon dioxide is seeping into her blood and will work as a natural sedative so she doesn't suffer. She'll just slip away as her body shuts down. It'll be peaceful and she won't be in pain."

The monitor beeped as the oxygen levels began to dip below normal. Jason reached over and turned off the volume. Then he cupped the back of Mary's head through the blanket. Mary's heartbeat began to slow.

He should be able to touch and see Mary in her last moments. She started to ease Mary's mouth off to bring her outside of the blanket.

"No. She wants to be close to you." He sniffled and continued stroking Mary's head through the blanket.

Her lip quivered and she pulled her hand away to let Mary hold on as long as needed. She eased the blanket back so he could see Mary. The little chest stilled and then struggled for a breath. She held her own breath waiting for the little chest to continue moving.

He reached in and stroked Mary's cheek with a finger. "It's alright, Mary. You're warm and loved. Now it's time to go where you can be happy," he whispered. He slipped the tip of his finger through Mary's fist on her breast, his voice breaking. "We love you."

The little body grew limp. Her little chest didn't rise again.

She looked up at the monitor. A flat line drew across the screen. Natural instinct rose up, a moment of panic to breathe air back into the tiny body.

Jason sniffled and quietly grabbed a stethoscope. Then he listened to Mary's back.

Her heart stilled, hoping by some miracle Mary would start breathing again, that somehow she'd be all better.

Then he gently peeled an electrode off the baby's chest and listened from the front.

The doctor stepped over, keeping his eyes averted from her breast.

An irrational urge to scream threatened. Two doctors right here and they weren't doing anything. There had to be something even though deep down she knew better. Mary had been born too soon for medicine to know how to save her.

Jason felt for a pulse and checked for reflexes. And then he stroked Mary's cheek, with tears in his voice. "Jacob, time of death: four twenty-seven."

She bowed her head and wept, cradling the lifeless baby. Jason's arms wrapped around her and Mary and he kissed her hair, his pain as palatable as her own.

...

He sat in his office and stared out the window overlooking the rain falling over San Francisco. There was no desire to break the silence, so she leaned against the back of the desk and simply set a hand on his shoulder.

A small service for Mary had been held in a chapel at the back of the hospital. Now there was no more energy left to cry more tears, but to simply sit in a numb daze.

He had built an empire, something so wonderful from his terrible ordeal with the fire. And today he had shown a part of himself and his world that had somehow shifted everything. He had confidence here. In this little corner of the world, none of these children were afraid either. Here, society's misfits fit in. Here, Jason let go of his apprehensions because his passion for the children came first. He sat in silence. Mary's death had taken a toll on him.

Someone knocked at the door. Jason heaved a weary sigh and turned his chair to face the door. "Come in." His tone held no energy.

A nurse peeked in. "Sir - "

A little girl, no more than three years old with the most beautiful black curls and ebony skin, plowed into the room. "Dada!" She carried a rag doll and wore a hospital gown and slippers but bounced over with exhuberance, running on her tiptoes.

Jason burst out laughing, backed up his chair, and held out his arms to make room for the little girl to climb into his lap. "Qadira! How's my pretty girl?"

The little darling tilted her head back, as if the words were some kind of command. Situ he's ran through the middle of her upper lip.

He smiled. "Ah, good girl. Don't touch. Does it hurt?" He laid a finger on her lip but away from the sutures.

She shook her head, bouncing the thick black curls, and smiled, babbling something unintelligible.

With a kiss to the top of Qadira's head, he looked at the nurse. "I'll bring her back when we're done."

"Yes, sir. Forgive the intrusion. She woke up in Recovery and saw you walk past. She's been fussing the past half hour to come."

A severe scowl crossed Jason's features, and he brushed his finger under Qadira's eye. It came away wet from lingering tear stains. "The children may come when they please. Ms. Williams knows when I have a handful of meetings that cannot be disturbed." His clipped tone held intense displeasure.

The nurse looked sheepish. "Yes, sir." Then she left.

"Goddammit. Leaving her cry," he muttered under his breath. Then he stood the girl on his knees to be eye level and smiled. "Do you know who this pretty lady is? This is Emma." He set a hand on her arm.

Qadira held her rag doll tight and studied with apprehension. A smile made Qadira smile and bury her face against Jason's shoulder in shyness.

"Are you being shy? You're not shy." He tickled the child's belly, and Qadira burst out in hysterics and babbled.

She stepped closer and held out a hand to the girl to study first. "Does she have a cleft palate?"

"Hm? Oh, forgive me. I'm tired. Yes, she came from an African orphanage about two months ago on her death bed from starvation. Her face was terribly deformed and prevented her from eating. With a feeding tube, she grew strong enough for surgery. This should be the last one before dentists can help straighten her teeth so her adult ones come in properly. She works with a speech pathologist, but she's still at the level of a twelve-month old. CT scans don't show abnormalities, so she's either stubborn or has more damage than we thought. She seems to understand English but can't say much."

The girl leaned over and held out her arms.

"Shall I pick you up, honey?" She scooped up Qadira, the weight of a baby on her hip feeling so right. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

Qadira tilted her head back again.

Jason laughed. "Everyone must say that because she shows her cleft palate when 'pretty' is said."

Then the girl's eyes narrowed on her lip. She reached out a touched it.

"Yours will look like that soon too, princess." She kissed the little hand.

Qadira smiled and gave a spitty gurgle-laugh. Then she threw her doll down.

She squatted down and picked it up.

The girl threw it down a second later and squealed, babbling nonsense again.

"Oh ho, I know this game. Can you say 'doll?'" She pointed to the doll on the floor.

Qadira tried to pitch herself to the floor.

She started to bend down and hovered a hand over the doll. "Are you just stubborn? Say 'doll.'"

That little face grew darker with frustration. "Oll!"

Her mouth fell open. Scooping up the doll, she lifted Qadira up in the air. "Ah! What a good girl! Yes, you are!"

Qadira shrieked and jammed her fist in her mouth with a grin.

Jason laughed and stood, clapping his hands. "Look at you! Did you say a new word? Good girl!" He eased her fist out of her mouth.

Qadira's legs flailed with excitement. She lowered the girl onto her hip. Except Qadira's bottom lip pooched and her face crumpled. "Ah na da na!"

She looked at Jason in confusion.

He simply smiled. "Now you did it. She wants you to lift her again."

She did, and the girl screamed with excitement. She set Qadira on her hip again.

"Can you say, 'Emma?'" Jason prompted.

"Eh! Eh!" Qadira fussed to be lifted again, stretching up her arms.

So she got in position and smiled. "Say, 'Emma.'"

Qadira jammed the doll in her mouth and kicked her legs in excitement. When Jason pulled the doll away from the stitches, the girl flailed her arms in frustration. "Mema! Mama! Mama!"

She laughed and lifted Qadira fast, eliciting a scream of delight. The word melted her heart.

Jason smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. "I like that name."

When she lowered the girl onto her hip and Qadira nuzzled and sucked on a chubby little thumb, she looked up at Jason. "She's so sweet, Jay."

He chuckled. "Don't you both look at me with those big eyes. Her adoption to a nice couple is finalized in a month."

She frowned. "Why aren't they here with her?"

"Because legally they can't be yet. Come, little trouble maker. It's almost time for Santa."

She followed Jason downstairs into one of the larger burn unit rooms, still cuddling Qadira.

"I'll be back," he whispered and slipped out.

She looked around the room and set Qadira down to play with some blocks at one of the tables. Nurses and doctors smiled and nodded, but they kept busy checking on the children. She knelt down and played blocks with Qadira and some other young children.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!"

The loud noise carried down the hall. All the children looked up with bright eyes. Those who were able ran to the doorway while the others say up in bed. Qadira looked at her in confusion, so she swung up the child and carried her over.

Santa walked down the hall in a big red suit and sunglasses for the California sun, with a massive sack on his back. Jason needed to hurry back - he'd hate missing the children get presents.

"Santa!" The children screamed and herded around him like a mob, their faces positively glowing.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrrrry Christmas! I'm looking for my reindeer," Santa chortled in a jolly tone.

"You're in the hospital!" one of the girls giggled.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! So I am!" His white-gloved hands pulled a list out of his pocket. "Let's see...I'm looking for...Sara, Jacob, Annika, Qadira..." He rattled off the names of the children in the room, including ones who had followed him in from other units.

"Me!"

"That's me!"

"Here! Here!"

The children all jumped up or waved their arms in excitement.

Santa chuckled and held his belly, working his large frame into a chair nearby. The children climbed up on his lap, two at a time, before he even fully sat.

The beard and sunglasses concealed his face, but he gave the distinct feeling of making eye contact. "I need a helper to hand out gifts - "

"Me!"

"Oh, me!"

Santa had his pick of volunteers, but his head didn't shift from looking straight at her. "Ho! Ho! How about the pretty lady in the back?"

She glanced behind, but there was only a wall. One of the nurses came over and took Qadira, who wanted to wander closer anyways.

"Come, I have children all over the world to visit. Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Several children grabbed her hands and pulled her up to the front of the room. She darted a glance out the door. Jason needed to hurry back.

When Santa set a hand on the small of her back to reposition her between him and an empty bed, her heart jumped into her throat and she stumbled back into the bed. Panic of being cornered with a man surged up.

Santa, however, looked up and held out a hand, with two children still on his lap. "Over here, sweetheart." His tone held patience.

Something about his manner and the way he said 'sweetheart' seemed familiar. The galloping of her heart slowed, but uncertainty remained. Jason couldn't possibly be under all that padding - it looked too real.

"Emma." In that single word, Santa's tone wasn't Santa's but a familiar one. He caught her hand and gave a soft tug, his touch gentle and the size of his hand comforting. The sunglasses shielded his eyes and the white beard and hat hid any glimpse of flesh.

It was him. Her fingers tightened in his hand as she stepped closer.

He eased his hand free and rubbed her back in reassurance. Then he pulled over the large sack of presents in front of her. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Pass out the gifts to these anxious children!"

Hm. That seemed odd to not have the children tell him their wishlists.

"Wait until everyone has a present to open, children," Santa ordered.

She pulled out a rectangular present with a nametag. "Jeffrey." The children helped hand the presents around the room, and the children obeyed Santa's instructions.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Open your gifts!" Santa stood and slung the huge sack on his back that barely had dent in it. "Merry Christmas!"

The children gasped and laughed and squealed in excitement as they opened their gifts, all exclaiming the unique items were exactly what they had asked for. Curiously, Santa left the room before the children finished.

She cocked her head and went after him. "Don't you stay to watch them?"

Santa turned, needing both hands to hold the sack over his shoulder. Some children passed by in wheelchairs to beds, so Santa's voice remained disguised. "Why do you give gifts?"

She frowned. "To be kind. To see the person smile..."

"True giving has no reward, not even a smile. Christmas is about that selflessness." Then Santa turned and continued down the hall, letting out a hearty, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" He turned into the next unit and the children screamed in excitement.

Standing there amid so much hustle and bustle, she stared down the hall. Each time he gave so much of himself, he found a way to give more. It was exhausting and amazing...and so humbling to watch.

As she followed him out of the room after dolling out the last present, he stopped at a stairwell door and pressed a long skinny present into her palm. "Merry Christmas - a little early. I didn't want to leave you out," he said in low tones so as not to be discovered by the children.

"You didn't need to." She looked up at him.

"Meet me upstairs in a few minutes." Then he slipped through the door.

Leaning against the wall, she unwrapped the box the size of a bracelet. Inside lay a sterling silver charm bracelet. A small palm tree, the Chicago skyline, the Statue of Liberty, the San Francisco bridge, and a rose charm decorated the chain. One charm for each place he'd taken her. The rose must be for the garden at home. She smiled and headed for the elevators.

He came down the hall, with a smile on his face as he finished adjusting his tie when she met him at his office door.

She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, kicking the door shut as she pushed him up against the wall.

A deep chuckle vibrated against her lips. "I should've given you the bracelet sooner."

"It's not the bracelet, it's you." Her tongue swirled over his, but the taste of grief still hung in the air from earlier. Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her head on his chest. "You've made a place of joy out of fear and pain," she whispered.

He pulled away and walked over to the massive window, staring out over the golden city under the early evening sun. "This started out of a two-bedroom house." He broke the silence, but all the energy had drained out of him. "The first time I held a dying child, I was convinced I could prevent it from happening again. Yet, each time I come another one goes. And this deal...god, it's moving so fast," he sighed and leaned his hands againt the window.

She frowned. He seemed to be leading up to something.

"What do you think of the hospital?" He turned and his gaze landed on her. The man shoved his hands in his pockets, which he rarely did.

"It's wonderful." She held out her hands. "I don't know how you did all of this. This isn't a hospital, it's a place where children have a home when they're healing. You've made this a family, Jason. The children aren't afraid to go into a playroom with other children because they know they will be accepted, no matter how severely their disfigurement. Children who would die from cleft pallets or not getting much needed medical treatment have a second chance at life. What is there to not like?"

He looked right through her. "What would you change?"

She bit her lip. "I only saw snapshots of things..."

"What would you change?" he pushed.

Biting her lip, she stared out the window for a moment. "The volunteers." Her eyes shifted to him, and he frowned. "I know you want surrogate parent figures for the children, but all of them don't have to be so young. Seniors can do some of the administrative work. Don't hire receptionists - use volunteers. Save the salaries and hire more nurses. Young people are busy working, but seniors are retired and look for the chance to get out of the house. Advertise at local senior centers. I bet within a week you'll have ten volunteers. You're nonprofit, Jay. Use it - get more volunteers in here. You'll be amazed how much PR you'll get just from the seniors telling friends and family about it too."

His eyebrow rose and he scratched his chin in thought. "What else?"

A flush crept up her cheeks. "Jay, just because we're engaged doesn't mean you have to ask me for input. I know nothing about running a business."

He stuck his hands in his pockets again. "I'm not asking to be polite, I'm asking because you're intelligent. I've had my head buried in the weeds for years and can't see the obvious that fresh eyes can."

So that's why he brought her here. She shrugged. "It might be expensive if you can't get a toy company to partner..."

"Go on." His gaze grew intense.

"The children have the toys at tables, which is wonderful, but they don't have anything to cuddle. Qadira has a doll that looks worn like it came from the orphanage. Children like to hold something when they're scared. Give each child some kind of plush animal the minute they come through the door, before anything else happens. Let them associate coming as something happy. Give them a moment to bond with the toy so it can be a security blanket when they face surgery or treatments. Write their names on the tags in case the toys get lost."

He simply stared for a moment and then walked over the the window and leaned a hand on the frame.

"Jay, I'm sorry. That sounds ridiculously - "

"Perfect."

She blinked.

He heaved a sigh, looking so tired. "I never thought anyone would care about this place as much as I do." His voice rang hollow and drained. "Each day I drive myself to the verge of tears trying to figure out how to keep this place open. Each time I come, I sit with another dying child. I didn't think I could get through today, Emma. To get through Mary and then have to turn around and be Santa."

She stepped closer and laid a hand on his back. He grieved Mary, although he didn't have the energy to weep. His pain, though, was palpable.

"And then you took Mary to your breast, loving her in an instant as much as I'd you had given birth to her. I saw your fear of not knowing what death would be like, but you stayed for her. You knew just what to say with Tim. For god sakes, you wanted to adopt a baby who we don't know for certain may have brain damage, and you got her to speak when we haven't been able to for weeks."

"Jason, I have no idea what to do with children. I was an only child without any younger cousins. Qadira and Tim were lucky flukes - "

He shook his head and looked at her with an eye glassy from unshed tears. "It wasn't a fluke. The fluke is you have the ability to love a child in an instant. The fluke is you see strategic and business flaws without needing to be walked through the entire operating procedures of the company."

"They aren't flaws, Jay. There's nothing flawed here, just opportunities." She frowned and took a step back to make room as he turned around.

He seemed to regain his composure. "Be on the board, Emma."

She blinked and then laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. One lucky day does not constitute a position on the board." She walked around the desk and sat in a chair. "Let's grab dinner and just eat on the plane. It's been a long day."

He didn't reply but walked over to sit in his chair behind the desk. "I brought you here not only to show you, but also to see if you would react to it like I expected. You care far more than I anticipated." He unbuttoned his bottom suit button as he settled, looking ready to discuss another million dollar deal. "I had planned to offer a position on the board before we even arrived."

She held up a hand. "Jason, I don't know that it's wise to work together. Couples have trouble when one is the boss at work. And I am not at all qualified. Everyone would laugh at you for such a poor move. You're exhausted and hungry. Stop being ludicrous. Let's go eat." She stood.

He didn't move. "I realize that you have a job you like and it might not be wise for us personally, so that's why I'm not offering VP. You wouldn't be working _for_ me to be on the board, you'd be working _with_ me and nearly a dozen other members."

She stared. "You're serious."

"In order to do this as a nonemployee, you'd have to be an investor. Being we're marrying, my shares put us at the legal limit. I would transfer some shares over to your name on the books."

"But, you'd lose final say in any tiebreaker votes." Good heavens, he would be making the company vulnerable to change he may not agree with.

"I trust you to do what's best for the hospital, not what I want." He leaned an elbow on the armrest and propped his chin on his fingertips, waiting.

She searched his face. He seemed so set and determined that this would be a great thing. "Jason, I'm honored, but I'm not going to take your shares and your say as CEO."

With a soft sigh, he pressed his lips together, as if crestfallen. "I hope you'll reconsider. You don't give yourself enough credit for your intelligence." The man stood, taking the rejection in good grace as he packed up his things.

She laughed. "Sure, Mr. Genius." She stood and grabbed her purse from under his desk. A warm hand rested on her back and she looked up at him.

"The IQ test was a stupid number, nothing more. I wish I never would've taken that damn test that is likely flawed anyways. It's made you more self-conscious, and I regret that." His tone held nothing but love and remorse.

 _Stupid. Useless. Trash. Bitch. Pathetic._ She met his eye and something deep inside her gut curled up and withdrew to hide from the horrid memories. Her voice came out as a soft whisper. "It's so easy to believe the bad, Jay."

His expression hardened. "And I hate him for it." He ran his fingers along her jaw, his face softening. "One day you will believe me. Until then, I'll tell you over and over and over." He pressed a kiss to her brow. "Think about it, Em. Today you made a multimillion dollar deal." He scooped up her red dress coat and held it up.

She shook her head and slipped her arms in as he lifted out her hair. "I did no such thing, Jason."

He chuckled and pulled on his own black dress coat. "You're modest to a fault, sweetheart. On occasion, it irks me." He smiled as he said it and offered his arm.

"And is this one of those times?" Such an interesting man that he could smile when a bit irritated with her. She took his arm.

"Indeed." He opened the door for her and led the way to the front desk.

Ms. Williams looked up expectantly with a smile. "Heading home, sir?"

"Yes. Urgent matters can be directed to my cell for the rest of the night."

"Yes, sir." The young woman darted a glance at her and then back to Jason.

"Please scratch the other plans we discussed."

"Yes, sir." Ms. Williams looked a bit disappointed. "Shall I table it for next week, perhaps?"

She glanced at him in question. These two seemed to have their own code language.

He buttoned up his coat and looked down at the buttons, his manner nonchalant to anyone who didn't know better. "I don't think so, Ms. Williams. A rejection is a rejection." His hands slipped into his pockets - a sign of deep disappointment or self-consciousness, and it wasn't the latter.

She frowned. "What was rejected?"

"What we discussed. Ms. Williams was prepared for either answer." He flashed a forced smile and then glanced at the secretary. "Good evening."

"It was a pleasure to have met you, Ms. Hoplin." Ms. Williams's face held disappointment too.

"You too." Then Jason swept her to the elevator.

When the door closed, she turned to him. "You're not a good liar, Jason. You both were prepared for a 'yes.'"

He sagged back against the railing, so unlike him to be so casual. "It's just been a long day and I'm tired, Em. You gave your answer - there's no need to beat it to death." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Forgive me, I'm surly and tired and hungry." 'And trying to hide grief for Mary' hung in the air.

She laid a hand on his shoulder in concern. "You don't have to be strong for everyone, Jason."

Out in the parking lot where a private car and driver waited, he opened the door for her.

A couple teenagers walked past coming out of the hospital. "That," the girl whispered to her friend. "That's the 'monster' the kids talk about - his face burned off. He owns this place."

Jason's back was to the teenagers, but he paled sheet white and his eye grew wide. Instead of getting in on the other side, he shut the door and hurried around the corner of the hospital into an alley.

She whipped open the door and ran after him. And came to a screeching halt.

Jason leaned a hand against the wall for support, his back to her. He slammed to his knees on the hard cement.

She ran to catch him, his face coming into view as white as snow.

But he stared at the ground in shock and held out a hand to keep her back. His chest heaved and tears shimmered in his eye. "It never occurred that they're afraid of me." The words squeezed out of his throat in a whisper, but they could've been screamed from the rooftops for all the horror woven in them.

She blinked and froze, stunned by those words. "What? Jason, these kids adore you - " His stare aimed at the ground so vacant and blank that fear slowed the beating of her heart.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Only a couple in each unit, whom I've seen several times, would come near. The others stayed away. I terrify them." A tear glistened on his thick eyelashes.

"Because they're hurt or ill. Jason, stop it. The children aren't afraid of you."

The side door opened a few feet away and Ms. Williams stepped out and stopped in surprise.

Jason shot up and started walking down the alley, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Is everything alright?" Ms. Williams looked over her shoulder at him walking away and then to her.

"Teenagers walked by and whispered that the children call him a monster and are afraid of him." She shook her head and started to go after him...but the secretary's gaze dropped. Her heart fell. "Oh dear god, tell me it's not true."

Ms. Williams's eyes held a sadness as she looked up. "He's such a good man. None of the staff think a thing of the mask anymore, but children are children. The ones who have been here for some time and know him aren't afraid, but the word is on the street. The new children come in with horror stories about 'the monster beast in a mask,' they call him. We do our best to squash the rumors."

She hurried down the alley, Ms. Williams's heels clicking close behind. It opened onto a busy street, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The driver came down the alley. "Ms. Hoplin? Dr. Port called with his regrets and said to see you to the jet."

"Is he not coming?"

"He said nothing else."

This man had found a way to make the world a better place for these children so they wouldn't experience the same hardship and isolation that still surrounded him. He loved these forgotten or disadvantaged little ones like his own, and this blow might be the one to crush him.

She looked up and down the street as a light drizzle fell from the sky. There. A tall man in a black dress coat with black hair walked down the other side of the street with his hands jammed into his pockets. Darting across the street, she ran to close the distance to him. "Jason!"

He turned in surprise and took a step back, the shame in his eye enough to break any other man. Or halt any other woman.

But she grabbed his lapels and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his warm ones.

He pulled back. The rainclouds opened up and fat drops pelted down, soaking everything in an instant. "You can't marry me - "

"Why?" Her voice carried loud over the car tires crashing through puddles on the streets. The rain plastered her hair around her face and down her neck, dripping cold wet drops down the back of her dress. The cleansing, damp sent of rain filled the air.

The mask started to slip from the adhesive getting wet. He held a hand against his ear to keep the mask on and likely to keep the hearing device dry too. Raindrops rolled down his face and dripped from the tip of his nose and chin as he backed her up into a skinny alley that offered some shelter from the rain. His throat convulsed but no words came. Tears welled in his eye. "Because I have nightmares about myself. I don't look human. If you ever saw this..."

"I would love you all the more." She cupped his cheek before he could protest, the beginning of a five o'clock shadow pricking her fingers. "Let me touch."

A tear shimmered on the end of his eyelashes and fell to mingle with the raindrops. "I won't replace him in your nightmares."

With a sight of defeat, she leaned her forehead against his chest. The rumors were too fresh, too potent for him to see past them right now. So she pulled him down for a kiss that elicited whistles from people running by. "I love you and we're not waiting until May to get married."

He pulled back with a wide-eyed look. "What?"

Running her fingers through his hair, she gazed up into that beautiful blue eye, loving him so much for his strength and gentleness and big heart that existed even in the face of cruelty and humiliation. "Marry me after New Years. I don't want to wait until Spring."

"Emma - "

She shook her head. "Why do you want to wait until May?" He wanted to give her time to back out is why.

As expected, he looked away.

Hooking a finger around his chin, she drew his gaze back. "I'm not going to run, Jay. Marry me when the world is white and pure, still aglow from Christmas." Her eyes fell to his lips as she traced their softness.

His head bowed near hers, his forehead almost touching as he fell under the spell.

"Take me to Scotland and make me your wife," she whispered and met his eye. "You're my best friend and protector. You're my world. Be my husband, Jason. I want more than anything to be your safehaven."

He caught her hand on his cheek and tenderness flowed from his gaze. "You already are, Emma. Don't you see? Nurses and doctors are the only ones who have touched the scars because they've had to. You're the only one I've let touch for the sake of touching. Others have seen, but you're the one who has touched me."

"But, why do you not trust me?"

His fingers wrapped around hers and he guided her back a few steps into the safety of the shadows. "Close your eyes."

She did and the world enveloped in darkness. Slick warmth from the rain and lumpiness brushed under her fingertips, not with enough pressure to know what part of his face. Months ago, this side of his face had been a blank canvas of nothingness. Each time he let her fingers paint over his flesh, more colors and light swirled together in strength and love and honor to create the most beautiful painting ever seen.

"I know you do not understand, but this frightens me more than you seeing my face. Seeing the beast would frighten _you - "_

"You are not a beast," she scowled.

He ignored that argument. "I didn't want you to propose marriage the last time you touched me like this. You deserved to have a proper proposal, Emma."

She bit her lip and flushed. So he had cut her off on purpose. "I thought you didn't want me to touch so I won't figure out what you look like." Her heart beat faster as he released her fingers and instead cupped the back of her hand, as if to feel her touch where sensation had been lost.

"Let me feel you for just a moment, if you wish to continue." The ache in his heart leaked out through his voice.

Her hands trembled and heart thundered. If he allowed this, in a few months he'd surely let her see his face. No more walls. No more fears.

He pulled her hand down. "Forgive me. You're trembling." His calculated tone couldn't entirely mask the hurt.

She reached up with both hands and cupped his face. "Because I'm afraid you won't let me do this again - "

He cupped her hand and must've sensed her approaching his missing eye because he guided her back down to his cheek that was mostly skin covering a crushed skull.

She froze, waiting for the door to slam shut for crossing a boundary. But his grip relaxed. A soft smile touched her lips as she flattened her palm on his hollow cheek, truly holding his face in her hands for the first time. The right side did not have much definition or shape, or perhaps the hills and valleys of the charred skin masked the contouring. Her fingertips that should've brushed an ear encountered a flat plane. "I love you," she whispered and stood on her toes.

The left cheek grew thicker under her hand in a smile while his right side remained frozen forever.

"You took off the bandage." Her smile grew as warm filled her heart and melted it in his palm.

His breathing came a bit too quick, as if nervous. "May I kiss you in the rain?" The words came out with soft lisp from the missing mask and bandage.

Her face crumpled and she pressed her lips together to hold back the tears that burned behind her closed eyes. Such a simple request and yet how much it worried him to frighten her. Her voice broke. "Never ask to kiss me." She pulled him closer with a gentle tug.

And his kiss was so beautiful.

The now-familiar ache followed...the ache to feel the rest of his face and become one with his soul. She thrived under his touch, just like his children at the Foundation. He made the world better and kinder - this man who called himself a beast.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Had to back out of the house, which sucked and reflected in my writing. I had to wait and rewrite it. Word of warning, Olin drops the f-bomb a lot in this chapter. You'll see why.**

 **Yes, I know the previous chapter was a bit technical, but I thought it would be interesting to see a bit of Jason's world. At two different nonprofit health systems, where I help oversee the oncology departments, and several other hospitals in the area, the terms are CEO and board of directors - these are interchangable with director and board of trustees from everything I researched last night when the question arose (checked if it was unique to my state or something). And y** **ou can invest in a nonprofit and get ROIs - Google it and you'll find slews of articles about it, including in Forbes. We have investors in our nonprofit hospital where I work.** **Glad when readers point out when they suspect an error because I try to maintain accuracy when I write.**

 **Trudy's "don'tcha knows" are simply meant to provide lighthearted relief to some intense scenes, not to offend people from MN. I'm originally from the region, and people tease me where I live now about my "accent." Her phrases and other manners of speech were created to give her colorful personality and give her a simple nature to make her innocent heart stand out - those have nothing to do with where she's from. If she was born on the other side of the country, the only thing I'd change about her is her "don'tcha know" to some other fill-in word common in FL, which my friends from MN agreed is commonly used in their areas. It's a reader's choice to stop reading because of this or any other reason. Nothing is ever written to offend...except our villains are meant to offend everyone because they're villains! :)**

* * *

"Emma, I don't wish for you to see this." Every muscle of Jason's body coiled with tension. He continued pacing in his California Foundation office the Monday after Thanksgiving. His eye squinted a bit, likely from a stress migraine forming.

The lawyer opened a briefcase on the desk and pulled out papers.

He planted his feet and folded his hands behind his back. A hard, dangerous glint settled in his eye. "Emma, this might get ugly, and I don't want you here for it."

She crossed the room and set a hand on his chest, searching that troubled blue eye. "Jay, you need someone here to be support. Carolyn is getting more mercy than she deserves with you not pressing felony charges - "

"She doesn't know I'm not." His jaw clenched and anger seemed to pulse stronger with every thump of his heart. "She could've cost children their lives if her despicable plan had worked," he hissed, rage vibrating his chest under her hand the slightest bit. "My mercy extends as far as no prison, although her baby would likely be better off without her for a mother. Other than that..." His nostril flared and he pulled her hand away. He seemed to be afraid of his own temper, as if knowing he balanced on the edge. The slight chivalrous or perhaps chauvinist side of him would grant a woman more mercy than he would to a man. But in this, he would be almost merciless, because Carolyn's stunt had almost been lethal.

He needed a moment of privacy, a moment to let out the rage without being worried about frightening her. So she stepped into the hall and shut the door.

"Scare the shit out of her and her lawyer. I hired you because you're the most cut-throat California lawyer, so _be_ it," Jason hissed from the other side of the wooden door. "Threaten prison, lawsuits...whatever you want, but keep this out of court. Emma and Jack broke laws to save the Foundation and will go to prison if this leaks out. If you jeopardize Emma at all with this, I'm coming after _you_. Do you understand?" Jason had never sounded so deadly.

"Yes, Dr. Port. No one will know of Ms. Hoplin's involvement."

Jason had been so on edge and testy the past days since the Foundation trip. This explained it - he was scared for her. The door opened. She jumped.

The muscles in Jason's jaw flexed. "Go wait in the lobby."

She blinked. "No. If this concerns me - "

He stepped out and shut the door. "That's not a request." His eye narrowed even more, if possible, and his voice was far from patient.

Taking a step back in surprise, she stared. He looked so...cold.

When she didn't move, he grabbed her arm and spun her around to an empty office across the hall, pressing a firm hand against the small of her back to force her forward. He slammed the door behind himself.

"Stop it!" She jerked away and spun around, glaring. "Don't you manhandle me - "

"Then listen!" he roared so loud the windows should've vibrated.

The words froze on her lips. Once upon a time not so long ago, fear would've won out. But now her back straightened and she countered his angry gaze, jutting out her chin.

His hands leaned on the wall on each side of her shoulders and his voice fell to a growl. "You will not be part of this call, do you understand?" That blue eye pierced with cold intensity.

Tilting her head back, her gaze narrowed and heart beat faster with fury. "Or what, you're going to hit me?"

Surprise and confusion flickered through his eye, and then he dropped his hands and took a step back. "I didn't mean - "

Without moving, her steel-enforced voice cut through his. "Don't ever try intimidating me again." Then she shoved past and straight for the door.

"Emma, I was in such a panic at the investor meeting that I didn't think about the risk you were taking." Disbelief weakened his tone, as if not quite comprehending what had just happened. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this with Carolyn, but I don't want you to hear anything until it's over. I wasn't threatening you..." Lines of stress wrinkled his brow and the corner of his eye. He set his hand on her arm.

She shook him off, without breaking eye contact. He'd just broken a piece of trust, whether intentional or not. Betrayal overrode all the other emotions fighting to get out at once. "I don't care what you meant. You crossed a line that you of all people knew not to." Then she walked out and slammed the door. And her hands shook.

The cool December day and a quick pace helped calm some of the chaos whirling inside. Now that the argument was done, her entire body trembled. It was the first time confronting an angry man since... In the moment, she'd never felt stronger. But now...now the fear had a chance to drink from the sea of emotions and grow stronger.

Few people walked the streets during the middle of a work day, but those who did huddled inside winter coats. Jack Frost didn't nip at her nose or fingers here like in Colorado, so she simply folded her arms over her chest to keep warm in her suit dress. The quick click of her heels served as the sole companion to nurse her broken heart. Her curls tapped her back and upper arms, adding to the energy of the emotions trapped inside. Click, click, click, click. Faster. Energy fought to get out. Click, click, click. A crosswalk and light countdown. Six seconds. Calves burned, stealing some of the heartache. The curb and more people. Click, click.

He'd used a tender weakness to his advantage. Him - the man who was supposed to be a safehaven in this world. He always knew exactly what to say, what to do to protect her heart. Her steps quickened. Today he'd been the one to strike. Click, click.

"Emma!" a male voice called.

Looking over her shoulder, she tensed. Jason wore a dress coat and carried hers over his arm as he trotted across the street. The usual thrill of seeing him didn't blossom. Ranting and raving should've started, but the hurt mounted too high - hurt that he had broken trust and reinforced her fears. She didn't break pace.

The man's long legs caught up. "I'm sorry, Emma." He held out her coat, keeping stride. When she ignored him, he draped it around her shoulders. "I didn't think about it. My temper was hot with all of this, and I came across as aggressive with you. No matter how angry I get, I'm never going to hurt you."

Of course he wouldn't ever raise a hand, but that didn't make intimidation alright either. She bit her lip and stared at the sidewalk, letting her hair fall to block him in a wall of privacy so he wouldn't see the vulnerability. Click, click.

"Emma." He set a hand on her arm. "For god's sake, slow down. How can you walk that fast in heels?"

But she shook him off, keeping her gaze downcast and hating this ache inside. The last time this pain had existed was when she'd found out his true name. "It doesn't matter if I know or not that you wouldn't hurt me. You had no right to do that."

"You're right. And I'm sorry. I'll won't do it again, Emma." He took long, rapid strides to keep up. "My intent wasn't to intimidate or threaten you. I have a strange habit of leaning my hands against the wall when talking to you because it drops my height to be more eye level with you." He swept aside her hair.

She glanced at him. Worry and regret glinted in his eye. He did tend to take that stance whenever she leaned against a wall. Biting her lip, she digested that insight. "You're supposed to be my safe place, not the one I get scared of."

His pace faltered a bit like he hadn't understood there had been fear. Rubbing his forehead, he stared at the cement sidewalk. "Emma, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize...don't be scared of me."

"If you would've only leaned in, that wouldn't have bothered me." She glanced from the corner of her eye.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he looked down at the sidewalk with shame staining his face. "As soon as I grabbed your arm, I realized it and let go. I shouldn't have gotten physical. I shouldn't have put my hand on your back either - I was probably more forceful than intended, with my temper hot."

Silence.

"I assume you heard what I told the lawyer. I don't want you to be worried about prison. It's not an excuse, but I was angry with Carolyn and have been stressed about what this means for you...I finally snapped. I wanted to sling you over my shoulder and carry you away so you wouldn't hear the phone conversation the lawyer was having. My sole intent was to get you away from the door - "

She looked up at him in confusion, clenching her arms together even tighter. "I thought you were angry with me."

"Not with you. I realize it sounds like a pathetic lie, but I wasn't trying to intimidate you. I know my temper runs hot and the only thing that keeps you from fearing it is that safety of knowing I won't touch you in anger. I won't touch you again in a temper."

The remorse in his voice couldn't be forged. Now that he explained his side, it all made more sense. She looked at him. "Perhaps it's not fair to judge you because of him, but if you ever lose your temper and get physical, there is no second chance."

Shame grew in his eye, and his gaze fell for a moment before he seemed to force himself to look up. "What's unfair is I made you feel like you needed to state that. I know. And I'm glad that you demand respect from a man."

Silence. Things were still strained, and she still was too shaken to offer him forgiveness yet.

He broke the silence. "Do you really want to listen on the call to Carolyn and her lawyer?"

"You need someone there."

His gaze fell away. The shame in him made her heart wrench. "I sense your uneasiness with me." That blue eye looked straight through her. "I want what makes you feel comfortable and safe again."

"For heaven sakes, you didn't choke me - " The comment made to get him to loosen up died when he looked horrified. "Come on. You're not paying a lawyer to charge you while we talk." She turned and started walking, automatically linking her arm through his.

He glanced down with a frown of confusion and seemed deeply lost in thought on the way back, if the wrinkle in his brow was any indication. Walking up the hospital driveway, he finally broke the silence. "Emma, I'm uncertain what kind of contact you're comfortable with right now. I didn't expect that you'd want to touch for at least a few hours." He reached for the door, but she turned to face him. He stilled with a hand on the door.

"I appreciate that you're sensitive to the issue, but you're being overly sensitive. Given my history, it's natural that I need a bit of space to just step back and test the water before I feel completely ready to just jump back in."

"Of course."

"But I also realize that you didn't intend it how I thought. You aren't a monster. Right now there is still strain between us that is mainly because we just had some discord. Things will naturally return to normal in the next few hours."

He nodded, seeming to chew on that as he opened the door for her.

"Who were you on the phone with on the plane, if I may ask? It sounded like an intense conversation." She hit the elevator button.

"Olin and an FBI lawyer." He winced.

She paled. "You told Olin?"

He looked ready to duck. "We had to. If somehow you and Jack get pulled into this, you need Olin aware and on your side. I know it was high-handed, but he was spitting nails. I think it was good you weren't there because he didn't take it well at first." He held the elevator door open.

She pulled out her phone and looked. It was on silent and showed five missed calls from Olin. "Jason!" Throwing him a look, she dialed.

"What the hell did you do?!" Olin roared on the second ring.

She winced. Even Jason must've heard because he grimaced too. "I - "

"No! You don't get to say a word! You and Jack had better get ice because I'm ripping your asses over the coals!"

She paled and looked at Jason, who turned green. Olin never cursed. And he never yelled.

"Holy fuck, Hoplin! Do you understand what kind of implications this would've had if you hadn't coded properly?! This could've gone viral! This could've leaked into government systems! Hell, this could've fallen into the hands of terrorists! They'd have a high fuckin' field day with that virus! Fuckin' holy hell! Now I have to answer to fifty fuckin' big shots, including the goddamn President of the United States! Jesus Christ! Your ass is on the line! You're shittin' full of luck it worked and that it was for your Sugar Daddy, who will bend over and take it to spare you some shit! That worm Jack and you are finished as a team! You got it?! If the two of you even look at each other, I'm shovin' your eyeballs where the sun don't shine! Goddamn, if I have a heart attack, it's on your head!" He must've opened is office door because he shouted in the distance, "Someone get me some goddamn aspirin!" Then a door slammed as he came back on the phone. "Don't bother showing up for work tomorrow!"

Her heart stopped and eyes widened. Jason paled, obviously hearing the screaming conversation.

"Call me in two weeks, and not a fuckin' moment before then! Then you're on the shittiest desk work I can find! When I'm done being pissed, you're training for the corporate team!"

She blinked. Then the phone went dead. She looked at Jason.

He seemed to start breathing again. "Well, it's a demotion, but I guess the good news is you didn't get fired?" Then he held the elevator door for her to step out.

The phone rang again. Olin. She hit the answer button and swallowed down her stomach. He probably meant to say fired.

"Terrorist team! Goddamn shittin' liver! I'm so pissed I can't talk! I don't want to be screwed by the goddamn President every day until I retire! I don't want responsibility for your horseshit! You're in terrorist team training when I'm done being pissed, which will be fifty years after I'm dead!" Then he hung up.

She stared at the phone.

"Isn't the terrorist team a promotion?" Jason blinked.

With a slow nod, she looked up at him in shock.

"I thought Olin runs that team."

"Maybe he forgot that part."

Jason burst out laughing. "Or maybe he knows you're good and doesn't want to admit it." His smile faded. "This is my fault. I'm sorry, Em. If I hadn't been in such a panic, I would've stopped to think about it - "

"You didn't hold me at gunpoint. I'm a big girl and made the decision, so I can face the consequences."

He still looked guilt ridden.

She sat beside Jason in his office with the lawyer. He leaned forward in the chair, bouncing a knee in anxiety. Jason must've sent warning about a call coming because Carolyn had a lawyer on the phone while she cried in the background. Jason's lawyer had to be the most cut-throat counselor in existence, slicing Carolyn's lawyer off at the knees at every turn.

"You can't convict my client of a federal crime without any evidence - "

"Do you think your client will survive the jury if this goes to court? With the harassment charges too and the FBI's evidence..." Jason's lawyer practically frothed at the mouth for a kill.

Jason sat straighter and glared at the lawyer. Apparently mentioning the FBI was too close to leading to her for his comfort.

The lawyer held up a hand, as if saying it was alright. Silence from the other end. "And the Foundation will be bringing a lawsuit against your client as well."

"What?!" Carolyn screeched and then burst into sobs. "Is Andy there? Andy, you can't do this. My baby won't have a mother if I go to jail. She'll live in poverty..."

Jason ran a hand over his face and walked the room in distress, as if Carolyn's pleas got to him more than he'd expected.

"Get your client under control, counselor," Jason's lawyer snapped over Carolyn's dramatics and then punched the Hold button. He looked at Jason. "How far do you actually want to take this? I'll threaten holy hell, but what charges do you actually want to press? You pretty much have your pick - the law doesn't offer much mercy for a charge like this, plus the harassment, breaking into your locked office, breaking into a computer, hacking into a business server...need I continue? Take your pick, Dr. Port. If we back off on prison, they likely won't put up much of a fight with a lawsuit or restraining order...whatever you want to charge."

He leaned his hands against a bookshelf and bowed his head between his arms. "I don't know," he whispered.

The reality of the implications seemed to hit him, and he had no idea what to do. She walked over, looked up at him from under his arm, and rested her hand on his heart. "What does this say?"

He closed his eye. It hurt to see him so torn and forced to not be the man to help someone, but destroy."If we show any mercy, she might come back. She might retaliate, Emma. And what if it's against you or the children?" That blue eye opened and searched her eyes.

"But can you live with that decision?"

His eye closed for a moment in disgust with himself. "A restraining order," he told the lawyer. "And..."

"Jason, forget that she's a woman. I know you don't feel right being as harsh with a woman as with a man, but she did what she did."

"You think I should press for full charges?" A hollowness filled his voice as his gaze shifted to her.

"No because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if full charges are filed. I think you should do what you can live with but what makes you feel like you're protecting your family."

He leaned his forehead against the backs of his hands on the shelf and closed his eye. "Maybe they don't have much money and any lawsuit would devastate them. What if the baby gets health problems and they can't afford doctors? Goddammit," he whispered. Then he ran a hand over his face and paced the room.

"We can file a lawsuit and from there get a feel of their financial status," the lawyer interjected.

He folded his arms over his chest and didn't stop pacing. "We don't need money. What I think they can afford without devastating them wouldn't even really help the hospital anyways. A lawsuit is just to hurt her." He shook his head and stared at the ground as he completed another lap.

She glanced at the lawyer, who didn't seem to know what to do with a client who didn't want to actually press any charges. "Jay, what did you want to file when you called in Mr. Jackson?"

He smirked and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything. I was so livid, but now...she didn't actually do anything to the children..."

Sinking into the edge of a chair, she kept her mouth shut. Carolyn had cost her two weeks of salary and a formal suspension on her record. Carolyn had cost Jack whatever his punishment was too. Carolyn had plunged a knife into Jason's self-confidence and in his own home. Carolyn had almost succeeded in harming dozens of children. Carolyn might yet come after them again and their own children. She rubbed her belly. He wasn't going to do anything to protect their future or future children. After all this, he still had a soft spot for the woman. She looked up at him and dropped her hand when his eyes landed on her stroking her belly.

That blue eye hardened and his voice rose with ironclad firmness. "A restraining order against her for Emma and myself and any children."

"We can't file for someone who doesn't exist. We can have a restraining order for both of you and your property. If we need to in the future if she's a threat, we can add children." The lawyer typed into his laptop.

Jason strode over to the desk and leaned his hands down on it, glaring at the lawyer. "The fullest extent of a restraining order. No lawsuit." His voice dripped with distain and he practically growled, "Press charges."

She glanced at the lawyer, whose blank stare seemed to match how she felt. "That might get her jail time. I thought - "

He looked over his shoulder, something about him dangerous and ruthless. "She wanted to fuck with me, fine. With the Foundation, she gets leniency once because nothing happened. But I have no mercy for when it comes to my family or our home. She's not stupid enough to come after the Foundation again, but she might come after you or the children in retaliation." Then he looked at the lawyer. "Send her a message - press charges for breaking and entering and anything else that was done at the house."

"Whoa, Jason." She stepped closer and set a hand on his tensed back. "You're knee-jerk reacting because you're afraid what she might do. A moment ago you didn't want to press charges."

Standing to his full height, he looked down. Disgust oozed from his tone. "A moment ago I didn't think about it that she'll see mercy as weakness. She's a threat I will not have looming over our family."

She bit her lip. "Jay, just put this on hold for a couple days. You need to make sure you can live with the consequences of what might happen to her if you press these charges."

"I agree, Dr. Port. You're swinging between extremes. We don't need to decide this today. Sleep on it and see what you think. I can close the call without stating what we are or aren't doing." The lawyer's finger hovered over the Hold button.

Jason grabbed her hand and their coats and swept out of the room without a word. Then he tugged her into the elevator and hit the 'B' button. There must be a parking garage below and the driver must be waiting down there. He kept a firm grip on her hand, seeming ready to climb the walls.

When the doors opened to a parking garage, he led her straight to a motorcycle parked in the corner. He opened the side bag and pulled out two pairs of motorcycle pants, gloves and jackets. Then he handed her one set. "They'll be a bit hot, but it's better than being skinned alive." His words remained clipped and he pressed his lips together as he jerked on the gear.

She stared. "You have a motorcycle? Where are we going?" It should've been nervewracking, but Jason would be driving and he wouldn't do anything that'd put her in danger.

"Just this one. No point in having one in Colorado when I can't drive it down the mountain. We're riding the coastline." Then he opened a black case on the back of the bike and pulled out two helmets.

"Why two? Who else rides it?" She pulled on the clothes, which fit perfect. "Did you buy my size?" She looked up at him.

"I ordered it for you last week. I get stressed after being at this hospital, and zipping down the highway relieves it." His lean, tall body had a beautiful, bad-ass look in that black leather.

When he ran his hands down her sides, warm shivers tingled up her spine.

"Too loose and it won't work, too tight and your skin will still rip off if we crash." The man seemed cranky yet. "Damn, you look hot."

She did a double take. His grouchy expression hadn't changed - maybe she'd imagined those words. When he plopped a helmet on her head, she dug her hair away from her neck. She looked up to see a helmet on him, and he tucked his mask in the side bag.

Then he cracked open the visor hiding his face. His voice traveled through the crack. "Hold on around my waist and don't lean to unbalance us." He swung a long leg over the bike to straddle it and then held out his hand.

She tried swinging a leg over, but the bike was a bit tall. His arm swept around her side and practically scooped her up behind him. Her arms whipped around his waist to keep balanced while the bike sat cockeyed on the kickstand as he uprighted it. The thumping of her heart and blood roaring in her ears dulled the roar of the motor starting.

"Ready?"

Shaking her head, she held on tighter. Why in heaven's name did he own a death machine and want to ride it?

"We'll start out slow," he called over the roar echoing in the garage. He backed up the bike and then started forward.

The vibrations shimmied up to the roots of her hair, and she held tighter, her arm muscles aching from such a tense grip. Nothing about this felt secure. One lean too far or a rock in the road or tap of a car would mean lights out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned her helmet against his back.

Momentum picked up and slowed down - he must be going through city traffic. Dear god, his right side was entirely blind on top of everything else that was stupidly dangerous about this. In Heaven, God would probably grant permission to rip Jason a new one for killing them. The engine's roar created a mild headache...but then he sped up and the engine cut under the roar of apparently very high blood pressure throbbing through her veins.

"Emma," he called over the noise.

Oh god, he was probably warning to brace for impact. Her eyes shot open. And she gasped.

White-capped waves from a vibrant blue ocean lapped the crystal-like beach glinting the sunlight on the left side of the road. The late afternoon sun sparkled a beautiful white glow off the ocean, brightening everything. As Jason picked up speed, the roar of the engine fell behind. The crashing ocean against the grains of glittering sand filled the air like music, even through the helmet.

The motorcycle's vibrations eased to a gentle buzz. The wind whipped over exposed skin just under the helmet. All the fear melted away. Riding like this felt so...free. Her grip on him loosened. Now her heart raced as fast as the bike with excitement. Worries and stress couldn't keep up on this wide-open road. She couldn't help but smile. So this is what he loved, what helped wash away the ache of holding dying children or the weight of the hospital resting on his shoulders...or the heartbreak of betrayal from his ex. Her smile faded.

* * *

Two weeks later, Olin held to his promise and ordered her onsite in Washington, D.C., to be at his beck and call doing the worst menial tasks ever - archiving paperwork in the basement from the last twenty years. Even the college interns from the past twenty years had bailed on the task. But the worst part was not seeing Jason for days.

Jason called religiously at nine o'clock each night, but it wasn't the same as seeing him. He hadn't discussed his decision for what charges he'd pressed against Carolyn, and he talked less and less as the days melted into two weeks when Olin moved her into training for the new job...for which Olin was still her boss. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and she'd be flying home. Wedding plans were so far behind with work and everything. There was no way everything could be moved to January in time. Jason hadn't mentioned marriage or the wedding since that day in California.

Everyone had gone home over an hour ago. She sat with her feet on her desk and just the glow of the desk light and laptop. Biting her lip, she stared at the cell phone. Half past nine and Jason still hadn't returned her voicemail. He'd ended the calls after just a few minutes the past couple nights, claiming a migraine. Maybe he still had a soft spot for Carolyn. Maybe he was getting ill. Then her breath caught in her throat. Surely his eye surgery couldn't be a problem again this far out. Or...maybe he'd had a change of heart about the engagement. Her heart fell, and she fingered the engagement ring.

"Hoplin."

She dropped her feet and sat upright when Olin stepped out of his office.

"Go. There's a car downstairs to take you back to the hotel. You've pulled sixty hours this week. Get out."

With a heavy sigh, she grabbed her coat. "Yes, sir. Happy holiday."

He leaned a hand against his door frame. "He won't call tonight."

Her eyes snapped to him.

"The trial was today."

"The trial? For Carolyn? But it's only been a month since Jason's lawyer called her, and he didn't know what he was pressing for charges. How could a trial have already happened?"

"The FBI got involved. We make things happen when it's convenient for us, Hoplin."

Dinner threatened to come up and she stood. "What did you make him do?" The FBI didn't do anything without a price.

"Ask him yourself." He glanced behind her, one corner of his mouth curling up, and shut his office door.

She spun around and Jason materialized out of the dark, wearing a suit and dress coat. He looked slightly older than a few days ago and didn't smile as he strode straight for her without breaking pace. Then he caught her in a tight embrace and buried his face in her hair.

"Oh god, Jason, what happened?" She cupped the back of his head and held him close. He hurt.

"The FBI wasn't going to let her off the hook knowing what she'd done. The charges I pressed got a restraining order and gave her two weeks in jail. The FBI got involved and got her ten years in prison."

She pulled back and looked at him. Guilt dimmed his eye. "You didn't want to press felony charges."

He searched her eyes. "She...she doesn't know it, but I paid for her appeal that got her five years."

Her brow furrowed, sensing more to the story. "Why?"

His gaze held hers. "So I would be able to look you in the eye. You make me want to be a better man, Emma. This time that meant forgiving her for everything she's done these past few years."

Her heart was torn between melting and breaking. He'd done everything for her in the end, not for Carolyn or anyone else. She cupped his cheek. "You are more honorable than I could ask for. I will always admire and love you, Jason. Let's go home for Christmas."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Catching up since Ch. 12...Thanks for the reviews, JustAStranger, Rose, Iluvmilarion1201, mschriber67, AngelLove1728, lkov, Guest, lilybell895, Morganstern15, BelieveinAngels, Cloelius Princess, YazmineXD and Charlotte.**

 **Stephen King says that TV and movies rot the imagination and ruin a writer (poorly quoted) - I say they are just a different work of art that inspire in other ways. I caught up on the Reign show a few nights ago, and Stay With Me by the Vitamin String Quartet played in the background. The lyrics of that song have never especially moved me, but when I heard the instrumental version, I knew that's what would play when Jason and Emma step into the ballroom.**

 **Rose: Patience. You're getting ahead of the story. :)**

 **AngelLove1728: You're not supposed to really be able to picture Jason burned face because Emma can't really either without seeing him. A couple times we've seen her describe his face as swirls of colors in an abstract way - this will come into play.**

 **Wrote three chapters at once, so binge read time!**

* * *

She stared up at the dark ceiling of her apartment. Andy and a few other cousins crashed in the livingroom. The holidays and her thirty-first birthday had flown past, and now the wedding loomed less than twelve hours away. She glanced at the clock. Quarter to one in the morning on January thirtieth. Her stomach twisted from nerves. The cell phone chirped.

 _Are you awake? J_

Jason. She needed him more than anything right now. She dialed.

He picked up on the first ring. "Hi, love. You should be sleeping. Did I wake you?"

The jittery butterflies in her stomach calmed a bit under the warm smoothness of his voice. "No. You shouldn't be up either. Are you okay?"

"Yes," he sighed. "Just nervous, I guess. You?"

"Yeah. I don't know why. It's just my family, Trudy, Pete and some of our coworkers. It's, what, seventy people?"

He chuckled, the sound so comforting. "Sweetheart, your family alone is almost seventy. I won't tell you how many and make you more nervous."

She smiled. The dear man hadn't complained a peep at the extra expenses to move up the wedding on such short notice. Or that the florist had needed to fly in some flowers. Or that the caterer had charged double. Or that the invite list had grown and grown. He'd kept the bills to himself, but one afternoon she'd caught a glimpse of the venue bill for six thousand dollars. The sweet man had denied her request to cut down the guest list and hold the wedding at home, seeming to know that guilt prompted her offer. "Thank you, Jay."

"For what, princess?"

"Paying for the wedding. And paying the fees to move it up."

He sighed. "No thanks are needed, but I am regretting moving it up. If your cousin makes one more crack about you being pregnant and needing a shotgun wedding, I'm going to _get_ a shotgun." He ground out the last words.

She laughed. "Bill is being a headache? Shocking. He'll see in nine months that we didn't have to move it up."

"Ha! Watch, you'll get pregnant on the honeymoon and have the baby early." When she didn't say anything, he added, "I'm joking, sweetheart."

She swallowed hard and her voice came out small as the nerves spasmed in her belly. "Did you mean it about not consummating the first few nights?"

"Oh, sweetheart, is that what has you awake? Of course I meant it. It could be the first ten thousand nights, Emma. Tell me what you're afraid of, love."

Her face flamed but this was Jason, the one person in the world whom she could tell anything. He wouldn't laugh or make it more embarrassing. She bit her lip. "I'm just...I dunno. I guess that it's going to hurt and cause a panic attack. One doctor said there's so much scarring it's going to require surgery before we can...fit. "

"Em, when you _are_ ready, we're going to go slow. If it hurts, we stop. It's that simple, sweetheart. Forgive me if I'm being to graphic, but I don't want you to be afraid - there are positions that will help you not be so frightened of not having control. I wasn't sure if I should ask this or if it'd embarrass you - I don't want you to be embarrassed to tell me anything, sweetheart...did you go to that OB/Gyn?" Tender concern filled his voice.

She swallowed down the shyness. He made things so matter of fact and easy to discuss. "I did almost two weeks ago. I'm glad you recommended her. She, um, suggested a website for a massage technique to help stretch the scar tissue and see if that works first."

"May I visit it?"

"Jay." Her cheeks burned.

"Alright. Just asking because I want to help, sweetheart. And it's not because I'm raring for sex - although you are sinfully beautiful and it's going to kill me having you in my bed." Silence. "Princess, I'm teasing. You're so tense." The humor left his voice. "Does she think you can safely carry a pregnancy? We can adopt, but we need to make sure we take extra precautions to not get pregnant if it's not safe."

She couldn't help but smile. "No, she said it's alright. The damage doesn't extend as far as my old doctor thought. She said there's just a small of chance of needing to be on bedrest for the last month." The smile faded and she bit her lip. Shame threw its cloak around her, drawing silence.

"Emma?" Such kindness filled his tone. "Look at who you're talking to. You don't need to be ashamed to tell me something, sweetheart."

How did he know it was shame? Scars where things were meant to be feminine and sexual seemed so dirty and disgusting. But it was better for him to know now than find out in the moment. "Jason?" Her voice shook. "You know that scar on my thigh?"

"I do, sweetheart."

The words almost choked, and she had to swallow hard. "That...that's not the only scar."

"Love, when I did rounds in med school, a couple rape cases came through. I've seen horrific things and had to help figure out how to put the pieces back together. I care that you were hurt and that it makes you self-conscious about our marriage bed, but I don't care what you look like. Let me rephrase that better: I'm prepared for extensive scars and tears."

She heaved a deep sigh of relief. He probably said the worst so she'd feel more comfortable saying what it really was. "No, but I don't look quite...symmetrical anymore because I tore..."

"Oh my goodness, Em. I don't mean to belittle it by any means, but I'd say that big monster turned out to be a gnat."

She burst out laughing, relieved that he couldn't seem to care less. "Well then, perhaps the same could be said for you about your face."

Dead silence.

"Jay, I'm not poking fun. I think Carolyn and others built it up to be some horrific thing when it's not. I wish for you to feel safe with me."

"This is different, Em. I know you think I'm being overprotective and overreacting, but Ms. Van Hoodie and Stevens agree that it's best not to subject you to that. I know you mean well and I know you'd still love me, but...you wouldn't find pleasure in my kisses anymore. You would have nightmares about me, Emma. And I couldn't bear that."

"I love you, Jay. I hope that one day you'll let me give you that peace."

"I love you too." He didn't comment on the second part. A smile carried through the phone. "How was the rest of your day?"

A long-winded sigh escaped. "Better since Nana offered to walk down the aisle with me."

"Nana? I thought your mother was."

"Mom was in tears most of the evening because Dad isn't here. I don't know. The doctor started weaning her off the antidepressant a week ago, but it seems like she isn't doing so good."

"Did you talk to the psychologist? It seems like it's natural for her to be getting a little worse - it's almost the one-year anniversary. That's a rough time for some people."

"Yeah, I called him. He said the same thing but for her to stay at this dose until after the anniversary. She's really reluctant to join a support group, but I think it would help."

"Well, let me talk with her tomorrow at the reception. Does she know I was in that burn survivors group for a few months?"

"No. That's your decision who you want to know about that."

His voice softened. "I appreciate that, but I don't mind if your mother knows. Maybe if she hears from someone firsthand how much it helped, it'll make a difference." Then he sobered. "So she's not walking you down the aisle?"

She said she'll break down if she does." She swallowed back the tears.

"You were going to walk by yourself? Oh, Em." His tenderness made the hole in her chest ache more. "If Nana can't, I'm sure Stevens or one of your cousins would. I will, sweetheart, if you don't mind breaking tradition. You shouldn't go by yourself."

Tears welled at his sweet offer. "Thanks, but I think I need you there at the end of the aisle. It'll be hard, and I think being able to focus on walking to you will help."

"Alright. Even if you're half way down the aisle and change your mind, hold out your hand and I'll come for you, sweetheart."

She sniffled and pressed her lips together as her face crumpled. A soft cry escaped.

"Emma? Don't cry, sweetheart." Crinkling filled the other end of the line. "I'll be there in a few minutes - "

"No," she hicupped. "I just didn't think it'd be hard after a year. I wish..." The empty, gut-wrenching ache grew too fast and too large. Tears burst out.

"Sweetheart, don't cry." Something rustled. "What do you wish?"

"That I could climb into your bed and cry. I didn't think it'd hurt this much again this far out."

"Love, it's normal, but it gets better. The first anniversary is often the last time it hurts so much again."

A car door slammed outside.

"Look out your window."

She brushed at her eyes and climbed out of bed while still holding the phone. Pulling aside the curtains, an earnest sob burst out.

He walked up the sidewalk to the building as a taxi pulled away. His face turned up to the window with a smile. "Hello, sweetheart. I was on my way over on the chance you were still awake. Meet me at your door so Prince doesn't wake the building." He pulled out a key and slipped through the front door.

Tossing the phone into the bed, she toed into slippers and threw on a robe. Then she picked her way over the floor littered with a bunch of female cousins who had opted to have a sleepover rather than stay at the hotel. Prince jumped up from his spot among sleeping bags and followed as she whipped open the door.

She ran down the hall as Jason came around the stairwell corner with a smile. And she ran straight into his outstretched arms without slowing down. His strong arms enveloped and shielded from some of the pain. His woodsy scent and the warmth of him healed her heart a little as she buried her face against him and held on tight.

"It's alright, Emma," he cooed in a low, soothing tone and cupped the back of her head.

"Stay." Her voice broke.

He swept an arm behind her knees and lifted her in his arms. He didn't answer even as he walked back to the apartment with Prince happily trotting along at his heels. In the doorway, he stopped in surprise for a moment when he must've spotted the women sprawled on the floor.

He picked a path through and laid her down on her bed. Then he pulled up the blankets before sitting on the edge in the dark. "I can't stay, sweetheart. I don't want to cause rumors if someone sees me leave in the morning. I'll stay until you fall asleep." Gentle fingers ran through her hair and stroked her cheek in the dark.

"You'll be tired for tomorrow." She caught his other hand and pulled him closer until he leaned across her, resting a hand on the bed on her far side. Then she touched his cheek.

"I just have to throw on a tux tomorrow - I can sleep in until nearly lunch if I need to." His voice drifted off and he seemed uncomfortable. "We can call off the wedding, Emma..." Even though he didn't say it, the offer for permanently hung in the air.

Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I don't want to call it off. Do you?"

"I've been looking for you my whole life; of course I don't want to, Emma. Even if you have doubts at the last moment, you can call off the wedding." He pressed a kiss to her hair and laid down on top of the covers, resting her head on his chest. "One more night apart, love," he whispered and glided his fingers through her hair. "Tomorrow is going to be alright. I'd do anything for you and will always keep you safe. Don't ever be afraid of me, Emma."

She stroked his chest slow and lazy with sleep. "I know, Jay," she yawned. "I don't mean to deflect Gaston onto you."

"Fears will arise, perhaps even twenty years from now. We just need to know how to handle them." He released a deep sigh and yawned. "I love you, Emma."

"Love you too..." she whispered, the words dragging out as her body relaxed to the steady beating of his heart.

* * *

She stood in front of the mirror in the Bride's Room of the church. Ten minutes until the wedding. And her stomach churned and threatened to bring up the sips of orange juice she'd forced down for breakfast.

The fitted white dress with capped sleeves was decorated with lace and a few sequins to catch the light on the bodice. It flowed out at the hips into a wide, fluffy silk skirt. A short train, with lace roses embroidered, trailed behind. The veil of old-fashioned delicate lace clipped at the back of her curls and flowed down her back. Trudy had done the makeup soft and elegant but in a way that highlighted features that hadn't seemed beautiful before.

This morning had been a whirl of busy pampering with everyone's fussing over getting her ready. Now everyone had left to line up for the procession and she had a few minutes of peace.

Jason had been gone when she'd woken up, but a beautiful note had been left on the pillow. She pulled it out of her bodice, needing to keep it close to her heart today. Her knees quaked and hands shook for unknown reasons the closer the ceremony drew. She read the note, needing a piece of him.

 _My dearest love,_

 _These are my written vows that I promised on our wedding night, but I do not wish to wait that long. When we're standing at the altar before God and professing our vows, I wish for you to know what is in my heart. I struggle to open up to anyone, and I likely do not give you the openness that I should, which I will work on - starting with this letter._

 _This past year has changed my world into more than I could have ever imagined. As a child, my example of marriage was filled with heartache and loneliness. I did not believe a husband could ever bring anything but grief to a wife. As a young adult, I thought I had it all figured out in how to be a good husband and father and how to provide for my family. With the fire, those dreams burned beyond resurrection. I'd never wanted anything more than to find an amazing woman and earn her love and be her everything as we raised a family together. The day I looked in the mirror for the first time after the fire, my world shattered, for I believed that no woman could love a beast. The grief was so consuming that I shut down._

 _It was a year later when I met Ms. Van Hoodie and felt another emotion besides despair and shame - I felt someone's kindness. She did not recoil from the sight of me but instead hugged me. In the middle of a grocery store, I sobbed like a child. It was the first time anyone had touched me more than to change a bandage since the fire. But it would be the last time for several more years._

 _The moment I held you in my arms as I pulled your unconscious body from the car accident, you breathed life into me again. Never had I felt such intense protectiveness or devastation at the thought of you leaving. When you were so afraid in the bathtub in your first days here, I would've done anything to take away that fear._

 _You told me one night in the kitchen that you loved me. I told you later in the hospital that I didn't love you...but you already owned my heart. I was afraid to tell you, Emma. I believed myself to be unworthy of any woman and hoped you'd give up and leave, for your own sake. War, SEALS training, the fire...nothing has come close to shaking me as much as you have, Emma. Your love and strength and blind faith have saved me in ways I do not even know how to explain. Each morning when I wake up, I want nothing more than to be a better man than the day before - because of you._

 _I cherish every moment with you, even when we're bickering, Emma, because in the end it makes us stronger. You're the one I wish to start a life with, to raise a family with, to grow old with. I still have fears that I'm not what's best for you and children, but as long as you're willing, I want nothing more than to try._

 _You honor me today by giving your hand in marriage. I vow to love you forever, Emma. I vow to honor and protect you. I vow to always be faithful. More than I can ever say, I vow my everything to you. I can't wait for us to start Forever._

 _I love you, sweetheart._

 _Jason_

She blinked back tears and tucked the letter back inside the bodice near her heart.

Someone knocked on the door. "Emma?" a deep voice called.

"Don't come in, Jason!" Hiking up her skirts, she carefully stepped across the room in short white heels. Standing behind the door, she cracked it open. "Is everything okay?"

"Are you doing alright?" Distress wove into the words.

She frowned. "Yes. What's wrong?"

He reached a hand through the door and held tight when she took it. Instead of the usual warm, steady hand, it was clammy and shaky. "Emma, make sure you want this. It's not too late to call it off." The undertones of his voice trembled. He must be afraid of trapping her with a 'beast.'

"Jay, close your eyes." She opened the door and pulled him forward a couple steps into the room. Slight shadows tinted under his eye, as if he hadn't slept much. Lines of worry creased near his mouth and the corner of his eye.

Cupping his face in her hand, she set his hand over her heart where the dress neckline scooped down. "Feel. My heart isn't racing. I'm not scared or worried. No part of me wants to call this off, Jay. I love you and will stand by you no matter what comes our way." She cupped her hand over his on her chest. "Trust me. This notion that you have about not being what's best for me...it's a fear without sustenance. I want to become your wife today. " Standing on her toes, she kissed his freshly shaven cheek.

He released an unsteady breath. "If you ever see me, I don't want you to be frightened of being trapped with a monster - "

She pressed a finger to his lips. "It hurts when you call yourself that. You're a gentle, honorable man who has given me nothing but patience and love - scars do not alter who you are." For the first time in hours, her hands did not shake because he needed her to be strong. She brought his hand to her lips, kissed his palm, and then cradled his hand to her cheek. "Stop panicking and just love me," she whispered.

His thumb caressed her cheek, and the lines in his face softened. "You make it sound so easy. I'm being silly, aren't I?"

"Yes. It is generous of you to offer to cancel this late, but it's an offer I deny. Thank you for your vows - they were so beautiful." She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears so as not to ruin the makeup and dress. "I wrote my vows for you, but I think I left them in my bedroom." Setting her hands on his chest, she cleared the tears from her throat. "I wish I could repeat them to you, but I don't think I can without crying." She bit her lip as a tear fell from her lashes.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his inside breast pocket, his lips pressed together and cleared his throat. "It will keep, sweetheart. Don't tear stain your beautiful face before the wedding has even started." He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, finding the tear and sweeping it away.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you beforehand - " She dabbed at her eyes. A bit of the black eyeliner stained the handkerchief. "Oh, I think I ruined your handkerchief."

His hands found hers and held them between their bodies while keeping his eye closed. "The fact that your vows move you this much is enough, sweetheart. And you didn't ruin the handkerchief. Even if it's stained, it'll remind me that this is the one from our wedding day."

"Jason!"

She jumped as hard as him at Andy's loud interruption.

"You're not supposed to be in here! Go! They're looking for you to start the wedding!" Andy's voice broke through before she came into view. Andy, in the deep red matron of honor evening gown, pushed open the door farther and pulled Jason out. "Go, Jason." She slipped inside and slammed the door shut.

"Andy," she scowled. "That was rude."

"And that was bad luck for him to see you!" She stepped behind and fluffed out the veil.

"He wasn't looking. Is everyone lined up?"

"Yes." Andy opened the door and peeked out. Then the woman pulled her arm and shoved the bouquet of white and soft pink roses from Jason's garden at her. "Hurry."

She stood in the vestibule as the procession music started and the small wedding party moved forward. Looking around, her heart stilled when there was no sight of Nana. Then something caught her eye.

Nana stepped out of a back room in a quiet silver dress and suit jacket, her hunched, small frame leaning on a walker rather than a cane. When Nana's milky eyes lifted and met hers, Nana smiled. More strength exuded from her demeanor than should've been possible in that frail body.

She stepped over, ignoring Andy's scolding for messing up the train. "Nana?"

Nana smiled and shook her head. "My back isn't so good today. Your beau suggested this hunk of junk to help keep me upright. Aren't you a vision?"

Her heart beat faster with worry. "Nana, perhaps you should just sit."

"The Devil can kiss my ass if he thinks he can keep from doing this. I'm walking my Emmie down the aisle." But Nana struggled a bit to make it across the vestibule.

Andy and Pete walked down the aisle together, the last to go before her and Nana. The ushers shut the doors as the music changed to the Wedding March. She took Nana's frail arm with shaking hands, but Nana didn't move.

That dear weathered face turned up. "Marriage is hard, Emmie. Remember one thing every day: you two have a deep love. That love, even though invisible during the hard times, is always present. You've always been the kind grandchild with a big heart - the one whom I've worried about the most. At the end of the aisle waits a man I couldn't have made more perfect for you than if God himself had asked how to mold him. You're going to have a happy life, Emmie." And then Nana started forward.

She swallowed hard at Nana's rare display of sentiment. She stepped forward to the doorway with Nana and then nodded to the ushers to open the doors.

Everyone in the church stood. Gorgeous, full bouquets of roses hung on the ends of the pews with white chaffon draping down the aisle under the roses. Dozens and dozens of massive rose bouquets decorated the front of the church. The photographer snapped pictures.

Her heart pounded with nerves - nerves that had been present for the last few hours and nerves from worry that Nana actually couldn't handle walking the distance. Jason wasn't in sight, but the front where the wedding party stood was blocked from sight by the guests.

Several feet down the aisle, Nana's breathing grew a bit labored. "Emmie," Nana whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't." Those cataract eyes looked up with tears in them. Even at Dad's funeral, Nana hadn't let anyone see her cry.

Her heart broke. "It's alright, Nana." She forced a smile and one of the aunts stepped forward to help Nana sit in a pew.

The pit of her stomach fell and grief surged up. The void of Dad not being here stood out more than ever. Tears burned behind her eyes as she turned to continue down the aisle. Loneliness squeezed until her heart struggled to breathe. Dad was supposed to be here. He was supposed to walk her down the aisle. He was supposed to be here as she married a wonderful man who would be her happily ever after. Her feet wouldn't move.

And then Jason stepped into view at the end of the aisle. Concern wrinkled his brow. He took a step forward but glanced to his right and stopped.

Mom stepped out of the pew, with a gaze focused on only her. The loneliness and grief faded to be replaced by love and happiness. She held the bouquet tight and courage returned as she took a step toward Mom.

Mom took her arm and dabbed at her own eyes. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, Mama." She glanced back at Nana, who smiled and stood a bit straighter now without the walker. Grateful tears welled. Nana had known Mom would come.

Something slipped through her other arm. She glanced to the right and a faint, nearly invisible outline of Dad stood there. Then he disappeared. It happened so fast she could've imagined it. But strength, peace, security and love enveloped her heart. Her gaze returned to Jason as Mom led her to him.

"You're stunning, Emma," he whispered as he stepped forward. Then he smiled, the sight so beautiful as his face lit up as never before.

Mom kissed her cheek and handed over her hand in marriage to Jason with a tearful smile.

Jason took her hand and leaned over to kiss Mom's cheek. "I'll take care of her, Becky," he whispered.

Dabbing at the stream of tears on her cheeks, Mom nodded and escaped back to the pew before the emotions grew too strong.

His eyes fell to her, drowning her in a sea of love. "I wish to remember this moment forever. But why do you shake?" He set her hand on his arm.

The tears still threatened, but for another reason as he led her toward the altar steps - for his selflessness. "I didn't think about it that you probably didn't want a wedding this big, with everyone looking at you - "

He cupped his hand over hers on his arm. The warm smoothness of his baritone flowed with tenderness and that gorgeous blue eye locked with hers. "Let them. Because I'm only looking at you, Emma." And he was. Nothing would faze him today.

Her hand tightened on his arm in joy and love. Today this man would become hers. And he didn't care how many eyes might stare. Her hands ceased shaking.

Holding onto him was home. Even though light shadows tinted under his eye from lack of sleep, he positively beamed like he never had before. "You look handsome, Jay."

A shy smile touched his lips. How it hurt to see him so bashful over such a simple compliment that he likely hadn't heard much these past years. She'd have to remember to tell him each day.

He helped her lift the skirts and ascend the three steps.

"Dearly beloved, we gather here today..." The Mass proceeded too fast, yet too slow. "Turn to face each other," Father Bob said with a smile.

She handed the bouquet to Andy and then turned to Jason. Everything in life had led up to this moment. She took his outstretched hands and held tight, wishing this moment could last forever.

He smiled, with tears in his eye, and glided his thumbs over the backs of her hands in an intimate caress.

Father Bob's voice faded into the background. The world melted away until there was only Jason. And then he cleared the tears from his throat and spoke.

"I, Jason, take you, Emma, to be my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part." He slipped the plain gold wedding band - so elegant yet simple and strong - over her finger. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Andy pressed his ring into her right hand.

"Emma, repeat after me," Father Bob said and repeated the vows.

"I, Emma, take you, Jason, to be my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health."

"Until death do us part," Father Bob repeated.

She held Jason's gaze and shook her head. "Until forever," she whispered and slipped the ring onto his finger.

Jason pressed his lips together and bowed his head for a moment. When he looked up, a tear trembled on his lashes. "Until forever," he whispered.

Father Bob continued with the Mass. When she stepped forward with Jason to light the Unity Candle on the altar, her candlestick wick wouldn't light. She held it up to the church candle near the lector again. Jason's candle lit and he waited. She tried again but it smoked and snuffed out. She glanced at Andy, who looked uncertain too. Scratching off some of the wax on the wick didn't help either.

Jason stepped forward with his candle. "Here, we'll light it closer to the Unity Candle." He offered his arm and led her to the altar. Then he held his candle to hers. The stubborn thing wouldn't light.

It had meant so much to him to have the Unity Candle ceremony - the symbolism of their souls joining as one. She glanced at him and bit her lip. Father Bob looked around for another candle.

"We can light it together, Emma." Jason smiled and held out his candlestick for her to take hold of too.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and held it just below his hand.

His other hand rested on the small of her back as they lit the Unity Candle. "I'd say this way is better, like what marriage is about - sharing your half so the other isn't left without." He met her gaze and smiled. Then he offered his arm and led her to the altar where the marriage certificate waited. It would be the last time of signing her maiden name.

When it was time to kneel for Communion, she finally let go of Jason's hand. Each time he met her eyes, so much love and tenderness overflowed that it was hard to not weep. She watched in awe as he bowed his head and prayed, so fervent and devoted and obviously humbled. How strange that she'd never witnessed him pray before. His devotion and humility stilled the breath on her lips. She didn't need to ask to know that he asked for God's blessing on this union. Father Bob had said during rehearsal last night that he would announce for Jason to kiss his bride after the vows, but Jason had asked if that could be done at the end of Mass. When she'd looked at him in curiosity, he'd said that he wished for God to sanction the union through a full Mass first. His faith seemed to mean so much, and the fact that he desired a full Mass together as man and wife on their wedding day spoke of how much he cherished her. She bowed her head and prayed for the marriage and for him, but also to learn from this man who had become a friend, a lover, a mentor, and a partner.

At the end of Mass, Father Bob grinned. "Jason, you may kiss your bride."

If Jason smiled any bigger, he'd split the mask. He set a hand on her waist and one along the column of her neck and leaned down, the brush of his lips soft and gentle and modest, yet spilling over with love. Then he pulled back, still grinning like a fool as he stroked her cheek.

Everyone clapped and whistled.

"I present to you for the first time, Dr. and Mrs. Port," Father Bob called over the cheering.

She flushed when some of the cousins let out hollers and cheers more suited for a sports stadium than a church, but Jason simply grinned and held out his hand to her. She smiled and took it as he led her down the steps.

Mom looked sad on the way past and dabbed at her eyes. She stopped, not even knowing what to say. Mom had become so distant since Thanksgiving...until coming to walk her down the aisle.

Jason stepped forward and pulled Mom's arm until she stepped out in the aisle.

It took no other encouragement for Mom to crush her in a fierce hug and burst into tears. "You look so pretty, baby. All grown up and married. I'm so proud of you."

She looked over Mom's shoulder at Jason in surprise and slowly hugged her.

He simply smiled and then took her hand and led her down the aisle behind the wedding party. Nana stood in the back row with a smile and tears in her eyes.

She leaned down on the way past and kissed Nana's cheek. "Nana," she scolded with a smile.

Nana's milky eyes looked up without remorse. "You would've had a hard time even with me walking you. Sometimes a grandmother knows what's best for her girl."

She looked at Jason holding her other hand and waiting with such patience. She kissed Nana's cheek. "Thank you."

The wedding photos should have been a source of stress for Jason, with hating having his picture taken with the mask, but he seemed to be in heaven. He did seem to more often than not to present his left side to the camera. The wedding party joked and horsed around, but the photographer managed to get some beautiful photos.

Jason took her hand to hold her back as the wedding party climbed into the limo to go to the reception. He tucked the white cloak around her tighter to keep out the winter chill and then pulled up the collar of his black dress coat. "Come here, wife." His hot breath caressed over her mouth, stilling the beating of her heart as he lowered his head, his eyes on her mouth.

"Mm, I like the sound of that." Her voice grew husky with desire, and her gaze locked on his beautiful lips. When his arms wrapped around and pulled her close against his hard body, her knees weakened.

"Say it," he whispered against her mouth. The tip of his tongue flicked over her bottom lip.

"Husband," she sighed in pleasure. He released a deep sigh, and she opened her eyes.

An utterly contented smile softened his features, his eye already closed. Then he rested his forehead against hers. "Call me that once every day." He sighed with bliss.

Happiness warmed her heart. Such a simple request that meant so much. "I will, my Jay."

"Get in here!" Andy called. "We're gonna be late to the reception!"

Jason brushed a kiss on her lips and pulled back his head with a smile. "Come, Mrs. Port. It's time to celebrate."


	15. Chapter 15

She walked to the reception doors on Jason's arm, the first moment since the wedding of having some private time while waiting for their arrival to be announced.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her wedding ring while holding her eyes. "Emma, I'm so happy I could burst. Are you happy?"

"Happy isn't the right word, Jay." With a grin, she grabbed his lapel and pulled him down, crushing her lips against his. He sighed and pulled her against his body.

"And here is the bride and groom, Dr. and Mrs. Jason Port!" someone said over a microphone.

She giggled and broke the kiss. "We'd better go."

He kissed the bare curve of her neck and growled. "God save me, I have a feeling you'll enjoy torturing me with kisses on our honeymoon." Then he offered his arm and swept her into the ballroom that was more beautiful than the mock display had been.

White and red long-stemmed roses stood in tall cylindrical vases with floating candles in the center of each table. Mirrors under the centerpieces caught the light, adding more flickering, romantic glows. The crystal chandeliers were turned on low, offering soft golden light pIckes up in the white tablecloths.

Instead of the DJ, who hadn't really been good in the first place but the only one available on short notice, a small orchestra played in the far corner. Stay With Me played in a tender and beautiful instrumental melody.

Everyone cheered and whistled when he led her into the room, friends and family clapping Jason on the back and offering her smiles as he led her to the table at the front of the room. Champagne flowed and laughter filled the air. Jason had never seemed so at ease as he did while taking her around the room to thank everyone for coming. Everything was perfect.

Someone clanged a fork against the champagne glass. And then someone else. And then the room rang like bells. She turned to Jason with burning cheeks and a smile.

He smiled at her aunt and uncle he'd been talking to. "Excuse me." Then he turned, wrapped his arms around, and dipped her.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in surprise. Even though he didn't slip his tongue past her lips, the passion in his modest kiss left her breathless. When he uprighted her, she still held onto his shoulders with a soft sigh and looked up at him with dazed eyes. This man might be more dangerous to her heart than he'd let on.

"Whooo! You sweep her off her feet, man!" one of his coworkers howled.

Everyone laughed, and Jason smiled in embarrassment. He kept his arms around her and leaned his forehead against hers. "You've swept me off my feet since the beginning, Emma," he whispered.

"Ugh, you two make me sick," Andy's voice cut in.

Jason laughed and straightened but didn't let go. "Aren't you supposed to be chipper and making Emma happy tonight, Matron of Honor?"

She snuggled up in his arms while Andy rolled her eyes, sighing in contentment while his heart beat under her ear. Nothing could dampen the happiness of tonight.

Andy snorted. "I'm keeping things running. Go take your seats so we can do the toasts."

He shook his head with a smile and led her to the table.

Mom stood, to her surprise, once everyone was seated. "Every mother wishes for nothing but the best for her child, to protect her from every evil and see her grow into an amazing woman. But no one ever mentioned that she'll be your teacher and best friend."

She swallowed hard at those words. Jason's hand slipped into hers under the table.

Mom met her eyes, her voice warbling a bit. "You've become a strong, beautiful woman, and I'm so proud to be your mother, baby. I know - " Mom had to press a hand to her lips for a moment. "I know your dad is proud of you too." Then her eyes shifted to Jason. "And he'd be just as honored as I am to have you as a son-in-law. I've seen you time and time again be there for my baby. I couldn't ask for a better man to give her to. I love you both."

A tear splashed onto her dress. The chair moved back and Mom drew closer. She looked around - all eyes were on her, and Jason sat beside an empty seat. She must've gotten up. She wove through the tables to Mom, who met her with a hug. "I love you, Mama."

Andy went next, meaning well but the speech crashing and burning. Jason, ever composed, was somehow the only one who managed to not gape. He started the applause and soon others joined in. Pete stood up on Jason's other side for the Best Man speech.

"Hi, everyone. I'm Pete Stevens, the Best Man." Poor Pete seemed a bit uncomfortable. "I have no idea what to say, so I'm just going to talk. I met him about four years ago, and I thought he was the bravest man alive to survive what he had without a soul to lean on." He set a hand on Jason's shoulder.

Jason's gaze fell to the table and he seemed to withdraw into himself, although he didn't let go of her hand.

"But then one day a woman in a car accident changed everything. I watched him change - begin to smile and have a spark in his eye. This slip of a woman, with more gumption than I would think possible in that small body - " Everyone laughed, and Jason smiled at her. "She turned the household upside down with her energy and vigor for life. She wasn't afraid to push him, seeming to know what's best for him even when everyone else tells her it might be wiser to shut up." The room chuckled along with Jason. "And I've watched him put her needs above his own. These two have taught me what love means. Everyone says it means sacrific and giving. But that's not what it's about. If you look at them, you'll see it's about making each other better people and being stronger together." Then Pete set down the mic, his ending abrupt as he reached his limit of sentiment.

Jason stood, and the two of them shook hands and gave each other a one-armed man hug. Then she stood and kissed Pete on the cheek. "Thank you for standing up for him in the wedding," she whispered in his ear.

He gave a gruff nod and sat. Beneath his coarse exterior, it had obviously meant a lot to him to be asked to be the Best Man.

Then Jason picked up the microphone, still standing. His other hand jammed in his pants pocket and he looked at the table for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts and a bit self-conscious about being the center of attention. His eye shifted to Mom. "Becky, you and Peter have raised an amazing woman. I'm humbled by the generosity your family has shown in welcoming me. Well, except the first time I came over, your husband truly put the fear of God in me. Believe me, that's not easy to do." He smiled and everyone laughed. "But seriously, I haven't had a family in a long time...and I've forgotten what it feels like to have somewhere to go for holidays or even to belong. Thank you all for that." Then he turned to her, with heartfelt sentiment in his eye. "And then there's this beautiful woman. There was a time when I had believed this day would happen and I'd have a wonderful woman by my side. After the fire, hope had ceased to exist for me."

The room fell silent. Tears welled in her eyes. Sniffles filled the room. But he only seemed to have eyes for her.

"Your compassion never fails to amaze me; your sunny nature lights up the darkest corners of my world; your strength leaves me in awe; and your love...your love is what sustains me. You are more than I could have ever asked for, Emma. You make me want to be a better man, a man you're proud of. Today I asked for your hand, but it's not enough. Fifty years from now, I wish for you to look back to this day and see that with all the love filled in this day, it is only a single drip in the pool of our life together. Each day I'll love you more than the last. What I want every moment of eternity with you. I love you, sweetheart." Then he bent down and brushed a kiss over her lips.

When she picked up the mic from the table and stood, he frowned in concern, perhaps remembering her fear of public speaking. "Emma, you don't have to."

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. Her hands shook, hating the attention. "Thank you for coming everyone. Thank you, Mom and Nana for..." Her voice cracked. "For everything." She wiped away a tear and with a watery laugh said, "And Andy for keeping the day on schedule." The crowd smiled. Then she turned to Jason and held out her hand. He took it, his steadiness and warmth easing the butterflies. "And to this wonderful man who has been there to pull me through some of my darkest times."

His grip on her hand tightened.

"Your quiet strength and gentle grace have calmed me when all I've known the past few years is fear." Her face crumpled, and tears welled in his eyes. "Your love has healed me in ways I can't even describe. You're my best friend. Today you honored me in giving me your hand. Today, I give you my heart to hold forever. I love you."

When she sat during the applause, he kissed her damp cheek "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you too." Then he brought her hand to his lips and held it there for a moment, the gesture so simple but yet speaking a thousand words.

When the waiters brought out dinner, she glanced at Jason. He held up a hand and shook his head when the man began to set a plate before him.

She leaned over and whispered, "Mom has a room upstairs. We can go eat there."

He shook his head. "Eat, sweetheart. People might gossip if we're both seen going to a hotel room. I'll grab something in a bit."

She ate as fast as possible, the guilt building when his stomach let out a soft growl. Cutting up a small piece of steak that would be easy enough to fit in his mouth, she pierced it with her fork and offered it to him. He didn't seem to have trouble eating a bite here or there with the mask on.

With a smile of gratitude, he glanced to make sure no one watched and ate it off the fork. But the small piece was too thick, and his tongue swept out to help force it past his teeth.

For the first time, it became clear that his top and bottom teeth couldn't spread even an inch apart due to the scarring. Dear heavens, the cake. It would be tricky feeding him cake without embarrassing him.

He slipped away to eat dinner for no more than five minutes as the cake was prepared for cutting. Then he returned and led her over to it.

White roses and lace frosting adorned the four tiers. A white porcelain statue sat on the top layer - a groom carrying the bride in a sweeping dress as she caressed his cheek. It had come as a surprise when Jason had gravitated toward that cake topper, because of his self-consciousness with the mask. "It reminds me of you touching the scars - of feeling your love in a way that I don't feel any other time," he'd said. That statue had touched him in a way that the others hadn't, which had sold it to her heart too.

She picked up the crystal cake knife that had real roses from his garden encapsulated inside and smiled up at him. His hand engulfed hers as he took hold of the knife too. Setting the slice of cake on a plate, she set down the knife and pinched off a small piece, making sure it was thin. He cut an appropriate-size piece with the knife and then turned to her. She bit her lip. This might be hard getting it in his mouth - she'd always shared food with him from the side, where it was easier to angle around the mask instead of from the front.

Some of the crowd cheered for smashing the cake at each other. Jason didn't seem to give it any credit, though, if the lack of panic in his eye meant anything. This was one of the many things so lovable about him - knowing he'd always be a gentleman.

The sweet man fed her the piece, keeping a hand below her chin to catch any crumbs from getting on her dress. She angled the cake into his mouth, only getting a small smudge of frosting on his bottom lip that she wiped off with her little finger.

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, which she happily granted.

"Mm, this is good." He stood in a back employee hall with her a few minutes later as they shared a piece of cake in private. She held his mask and stayed on his left side while he held the plate and fork. He offered her another bite off the fork.

She took it and smiled. "It is. I take it that you have a weakness for cookies _and_ cake?"

THe poor man wiped his mouth for about the twentieth time and looked down at the empty plate with a blush. "Oh. I ate most of it, didn't I? My apologies."

"Yes," she laughed and slipped her arm through his. "But you didn't have much dinner either. I've stress eaten enough the last couple days anyways that I don't need cake."

He tossed the plate in a nearby garbage bin and put on the mask. Then he grinned and wrapped his arms around her. "I like it that your hips are softer than a year ago."

Heat swirled in her belly. "Behave."

With an innocent look, he dropped one hand. "I didn't do anything." Then his finger trailed the low scoop of her neckline. "Dear god, Emma. I know we aren't going to do anything for awhile, but just the thought of not having rules anymore...of you being mine..."

Her breasts heaved against the material. The fire and passion that had been banked months ago flamed to life as if not a day had passed. With a soft sigh, her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his touch. "Jay, be good."

His hot breath blew over her lips. "Don't say me name like tha', wife," he drawled in a rich burr that rumbled in his chest.

That accent and the low, deep vibrations of his voice made her breathless. Her eyes fluttered closed as she grew drunk on his touch, his scent, his sound. He drew closer. This. This confident, sexual side of him that made him fearless had been gone for too long.

"There you two are! They're waiting for the first dance!"

She startled at Andy's voice breaking the spell.

Jason smiled and stepped back, but the glint in his eye promised this would be continued.

The party was in full swing before nine o'clock. Jason grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor for another song. She laughed and let him weave her through the maze of tables.

"He was bangin' her in the hall. I heard Andy found them. She's probably horny being pregnant," a slightly drunk voice droned.

Jason slammed to a halt, and she ran into his broad back. He slowly turned around, his eye burning into Bill at the table behind her. "You will be respectful when speaking of my wife," he growled.

Bill stood. "What are you going to do about it, pirate?"

The two other men sitting with Bill smiled but backed up their chairs, apparently eager to see Bill get a black eye but smart enough to not get involved.

Her blood boiled at the slur to Jason, but she set a hand on his chest. "Come on, Jay. He's not worth it." She threw Bill a look.

"Ha ha! Already on a leash? And you call yourself a man, Two Face. You couldn't even arm wrestle a child."

She whirled around, ready to punch the bastard herself, but Pete walked up and blocked her.

"Everything alright?" He looked from Jason to Bill, the anger in the room palpable.

Nana hobbled over on her cane and whacked Bill in the gut. "Chicken lard. _You_ arm wrestle him. He loses, you stay; he wins, you get your ass out of here."

Bill smirked. "Right. Let's make it interesting." He pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and laid it on the table. "Come on, pretty boy."

Pete kept a firm hold on her.

A crowd started to gather.

"You're drunk," Jason snorted in disgust and wrapped a hand around her waist to go.

"Pussy whipped, dick," Bill snorted, so full of himself.

Jason heaved a sigh of irritation but kept walking. "Ignore him, Emma." He almost had to sling her over his shoulder.

"Yeah, go bang her and - "

He whirled around, jerking off his tux coat and snapping it over the back of a random chair as his legs at up the distance to Bill. "I already told you to be respectful to my wife." Then he whipped a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and slammed it down on the table. "Escort him out when we're done." He dropped into a chair at the table and looked up at Pete and a couple other men.

When she stepped forward to stop this madness, Nana caught her arm. "Let him teach that brat a lesson. Public humiliation is a good teacher, Emmie."

Trudy appeared on her other side.

"Where on earth have you been since the church?" She frowned. The woman had been in the wedding party but had disappeared after the photos.

"Dancing like a wicked cup of cocoa, don'tcha know." Trudy's cheeks glowed with exertion and then her eyes swung to the scene. "Oh, it isn't a Jesus-lovin' thing to say, but I do hope Dr. Port smacks him like a goat in May."

Nana looked up at Trudy with a frown. "What?"

She laughed and waved a hand when Trudy and Nana looked at each other like they spoke different languages. "Don't ask, Nana."

Practically the entire room gathered around and bets started taking place. Most of them favored Jason.

The men rolled up their sleeves and then Jason looked to her. "Count us down, Em."

She sighed at this odd male display of dominance and stepped over to make sure Bill didn't cheat. Punching him would be much more satisfying, but spending the wedding night in jail didn't sound fun. "One, two, th - "

Jason's elbow slipped at Bill's false start. His arm bulged as he countered the force at a poor angle, but he held his own. The crowd booed at the cheating. Bill didn't let up and Jason wasn't going to give in even though that angle would undoubtedly cause damage to his shoulder. So she did the only thing left to do when male egos were at battle - she tickled under Bill's arm.

Bill yelped and jerked his arm away. "What the hell, Emma?!"

"You cheated. And watch your mouth - the nieces and nephews are here." She smacked the back of Bill's head, curbing the urge to punch him.

Jason slapped another hundred on the table. "Are you man enough for a real match? That's fine if you need to forfeit because you can't - "

Bill threw another hundred on the table and set his arm down again.

She held their hands this time. "One, two, three!"

Both men's arms flexed for a second and then Jason slammed Bill's arm down. Cheers roared.

Jason swiped the money off the table and stood.

Bill shot up. "That wasn't a match!"

But Jason grabbed his tux jacket. "I think everyone here would say it was."

"I wasn't ready!"

Jason heaved a sigh and sat down again. Again, he took Bill down in less than two seconds. The third time, Jason held for five seconds while Bill struggled before slamming Bill down.

Jason pocketed the additional two hundred dollars on the table. "Thank you for the new jewels for my wife."

Bill stormed out while everyone patted Jason on the back.

Jason led her to the floor, but he rolled his shoulder when he thought she wasn't looking. She took his hand and set hers on his abused limb, massaging the massive muscle as best she could without being overly obvious. "He hurt your shoulder, didn't he?"

His face screwed up in disgust for a moment. "No." When she gave him a look, he rolled his eye. "Hurt is different than sore."

With a sigh, she bit her tongue. "Men have an odd way of showing they're alpha."

"That had nothing to do with peacocking for you. Men are statistically proven to be less likely to challenge a male seen as physically stronger."

She cocked an eyebrow. "No, not peacocking at all, Dr. Port."

He pursed his lips. "Fine, it was peacocking, but not for the purpose of a female. There's a difference, Mrs. Port."

"Glad you're sounding more like a normal, bickering married couple," Andy said as her husband swept her past on the dance floor.

She laughed, enjoying that even in ill humor he could banter a bit. "I'm 'Mrs. Port' already? My dear husband, I don't know how well we'll suit the next fifty years if this is our start."

He eyed her for a moment, as if gauging if she meant it.

As he swept her in a spin, she pulled closer and dropped her voice for only his ears, "I dread what you have in mind if I'm in trouble."

His eye sparked as he caught on, and a soft smile touched his lips. "You play with fire, wife. I don't think you realize how much self control it will take to share a bed when technically there are no more rules."

A deep flush crept up her neck and she glanced around to make sure no one had heard. He simply chuckled.

The champagne flowed and music and laughter filled the air, and the night was wonderful.

When Andy's husband took her for a spin on the floor, her gaze followed Jason weave a path to where Mom and Nana sat at a back table. Jason said something and extended a hand. Nana swatted his arm with a smile. He grinned. The rake must've asked Nana for a dance. Then turned to Mom with a more somber look. Nana seemed to coax her. Mom brushed at her eyes and reluctantly took Jason's hand.

Jason's eye met hers with a sad look when they approached the dance floor. Mom's eyes were a bit swollen like she'd been crying again for Dad. He led her around the floor, and Mom seemed to perk up a bit.

"How is she doing?" Andy's husband asked in concern.

Her eyes remained on Jason and Mom. "The anniversary coming has been hard. Jason thinks a support group might help." The song ended, but Jason kept Mom on the dance floor for a waltz.

"He knows how to bring her out of her shell."

She looked down in surprise to see Nana standing beside her on the side of the dance floor. Andy's husband was walking away. She set a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I ignored you the entire dance, didn't I? I didn't realize it even ended."

He smiled and shook his head. "You're just worried about your mother. We all are. Excuse me. I'd better check on the kids."

"Look at that," Nana said in amazement.

Her gaze followed Nana's. Mom and Jason were deep in conversation. The color had returned to Mom's cheeks for the first time in weeks. "Nana, you see Mom several times a week. Should I ask Jason about her coming to live with us?"

Nana frowned. "That would be giving her a crutch. She needs to be where it's familiar and heal. By the time the grandbabies come in a year or two, I imagine she'd be ready to move to Colorado if you asked."

She nodded, focused moreso on Mom's expressions. Something brushed her belly, and she looked down.

A frail, gnarled hand rested on her belly. "You give me great-grandbabies before I go, you hear?"

"Nana, you're only eighty-one." Goodness, this was an embarrassing public conversation.

Jason brought Mom over, both of them smiling and pink-cheeked with exertion. An older man in his sixties stopped them and shook Jason's hand. Then he held out a hand to Mom. Jason nodded and seemed to encourage her to go with the man.

Her back stiffened and she craned her neck to see around Jason as the man took Mom to the floor. "Who is that?" she demanded before he even reached her side.

"One of the physicists from my research work. It's only a dance, Em, not a marriage proposal."

She threw him a look. "She's vulnerable and doesn't need some man worming his way in right now."

A smile threatened to blossom on his lips. "He's a good man and only asked for a dance. He just lost his wife a couple years ago himself."

"Probably wacked her," she muttered and stood on her toes to see them in the crowd.

Nana laughed. "Emmie, when it's time, it'd be good for your mother to remarry. She's not one who will thrive being a widow."

Her eyes shot to Nana. "Don't you go encouraging this - "

"Sweetheart, I agree it's too soon right now, but Nana's right. It doesn't mean she doesn't still love your father..." His voice trailed off when she gave him a look to kill. He folded his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. "I didn't take well to it either when my mother went on a date after my father passed - " This time her glare shut him up. "Uh, your mother agreed to a support group?" He offered, as if testing the water.

Her eyebrows shot up. "She did? Where?"

"Just a few miles from her house. I looked up some groups and called a couple coworkers who called friends who knew psychologists and support groups in the area. George there is in the group and - "

"Who's George?"

He stared like a deer in headlights. "I think you look thirsty. I'll go grab you a few glasses of wine."

She grabbed his sleeve when he turned to run. "Is _that_ George with her on the floor?" He froze. "Oh, I don't think so. You go convince her right now to go to a different group." Standing on her toes, she scowled when George said something that made Mom smile on the dance floor. "He's being indecent! Look at how close he's dancing with her!"

Jason sighed. "Emma, they're actually so far apart that I'm surprised they haven't tripped. Settle down, they're just talking. Your mother isn't going to jump into a relationship. Goodness, I don't think I'm going to have to pull out a shotgun and threaten the boyfriends if we have a daughter - you'll be more than sufficient."

She swatted his arm.

He caught her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. "Excuse us, Nana." The man whirled her onto the floor for a waltz when the orchestra played A Thousand Years. "Em, look at me."

Tearing her gaze from where George and Mom sat at a nearby table talking, she did a double take when Jason's eye held hers. Quiet sentiment filled his gaze. "What?"

"It's our wedding day, and it's almost over. Just...be with me, Emma."

Biting her lip, she searched his eye. "I'm just worried about her."

"As you should be. But he is a good man who isn't going to do her any harm tonight." Then he spun her around and she landed in his arms again. "You're so tense, sweetheart. Relax and enjoy the night."

Anxiety created a knot inside that twisted and tugged tighter. The closer the night drew to a close, the more the flicker of panic about the wedding night grew. Of course he'd keep his word about not consummating, but maybe he'd come into the bathroom while she washed the hair products out in the shower before bed. He never said anything about not looking or touching tonight. Dear heaven, the wedding dress was too big and complicated to get off alone. Maybe he'd help her change and then stay to watch. When he caught her to continue the waltz, she stepped closer and held his upper arms and rested her cheek against his chest. How odd to need his strength and comfort to ease the fears when facing him on this wedding night was the source of the anxiety.

The man nearly stumbled at the sudden interruption. His arms wrapped around. In the middle of the crowded floor, he simply stopped and held her, resting his cheek atop her head. "It's alright, sweetheart," he whispered. "It's eleven o'clock. Are you ready to go home so we have time to talk before bed?"

She shook her head, the coward inside winning. The calming strokes and warmth of his hand over her hair calmed the jittery nerves.

"Tonight is sleeping, nothing more." The gentle patience in his voice almost hurt - such kindness and yet the anxiety of leaving with him wouldn't fade. When a shakey breath released from her, he rubbed her back. "Sweetheart, you're getting tired and the stress is building. I think it's best to just go home so you can unwind. I'll sleep in a different room tonight - "

"No...I mean, maybe...I don't know." It wasn't right to make him sleep in a separate room on their wedding night. It wasn't a healthy way to start their marriage either. She buried her face against his chest, the stress mounting and messing with her head.

"Let's say our goodbyes, love. The longer we wait, the bigger the monster will grow."

He helped her cram her skirts into the car and then got in the other side of the back seat, leaving the middle seat empty. Everyone waved and cheered as the limo pulled away.

Silence. She glanced at him, his gaze intense. "I didn't pay attention - is Pete driving?"

"Yes. Ms. Van Hoodie is in the front too. I asked her to come back as well to help you out of your gown. And I suspected that another female presence in the house tonight may ease some of your anxiety." The man kept a distance, but his voice held no offense or frustration. "May I ask - you've come to my bed other times after nightmares and such without seeming afraid. What has you so uneasy this night?"

With a soft sigh, she smoothed a hand over the plush silkiness of the faux fur cape. "I think because there was the safety net of having a hard line to stop; the comfort of certainty. Now if things start going too far, there's nothing to stop it - "

"Except you saying, 'no.' I promised that the first three nights nothing will happen, Emma. You hold the reins after that." His hand eased over hers and his fingers curled around.

The gentle beauty of those chiseled veins and the safety in the way his hand engulfed hers calmed the panic. His tender patience and understanding stilled the memories threatening to surface. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she moved to the middle seat and rebuckled. He didn't move, instead letting her come to him. She rested her head againt his shoulder and took his hand in hers, closing her eyes and absorbing the peace.

His head tilted to rest on top of hers. "You're safe, Emma," he whispered. "The monsters won't come." He simply held her in the safehaven of his arms.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Lol, I came up with the idea of this story when I heard Love Me Like You Do, so that's funny you imagine it as the theme song.**

 **I listened to the song in instrumental by Vitamin String Quartet when writing the end scene. I think music greatly affects words on a page, so I hope readers listen to the song when Jason closes the curtains. There's an emotional depth that goes to an extra level with the music.**

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The car pulled up in front of the house. Jason unbuckled and got out before turning and offering his hand with a smile. "Welcome home, Mrs. Port."

She scooted to the edge of the car and took his hand, but his words stilled her. Home. It was the first time in four years of no more running, no more uncertainty where she'd be living next month. Home. And it was a home with him.

He smiled, seeming to know the warm ache spreading through her chest. When she got out of the car, he swung her up in his arms. "It's good luck to carry the bride over the threshold." He managed it quite well with the puffy, unwieldy skirts. Instead of setting her down in the foyer, he continued up the staircase and down the west wing where his chamber resided. He didn't stop at his door, but went one past it and carried her inside before easing her onto her feet.

Her mouth fell open in awe. Everything from her old room here had been transferred. In addition, a beautiful mahogany vanity with intricate rose carvings along the trim decorated a far wall. Several vases of fresh red roses adorned the fireplace mantle. A gorgeous red upholstered fainting couch nestled near a bay window. It, for some reason, caught her eye more than anything else in the room. She walked over and sat, running a hand over the beautiful scrolling in the deep cherry wood.

Heavy footsteps approached. "It seemed perfect right here for reading in the afternoon light. Do you like it?"

The answer seemed to matter to him too much. "It's beautiful. It looks so elegant and antique." She looked up at him still wearing his dress coat. "Where did you ever find this? It must be at least a hundred years old."

Folding his hands behind his back, he seemed pleased. "It was my great-grandmother's. It cost my mother every last penny to bring it with us from Scotland, but she was determined to have one heirloom." A sad smile touched his lips at the memory of it. "People offered her a small fortune for it when we reached America, but I think it gave her hope that one day she'd have a real house to put it in."

Her heart stilled. He'd never really spoken of his childhood or immigration. "You left everything else behind in Scotland, didn't you?"

His eye shifted to the couch. "It angered me at first, but when we traveled day to day from homeless shelter to homeless shelter our first week in America, lugging the stupid thing with us, I realized what it meant to her."

Tears welled.

"It barely fit in the trailer home. When we bought her the house, I had it restored but with a hideous pink upholstry to match the house." He chuckled. "It had been damaged a little more each time we'd tried carrying it up and down shelter stairs. She'd thought it'd been damaged beyond repair. She cried when I gave it to her and said it was the most beautiful abomination against feminism." Then his eye shifted to her. "Turns out she hated pink, which astounded me because I believed all women loved the color. But thatt was her way of saying she loved it because of the thought behind it." His smile slipped away as he met her eyes. "Perhaps a silly notion, but I imagined you reading there in the afternoon light while pregnant. I know you didn't want anything extravagant as a wedding gift and that you like jewel tones. I favored red because of what it symbolizes. "

Love. A tear fell from her lashes and she stood. The only heirloom he had, the only thing he and his mother had owned during homelessness and starvation while leaving everything else behind in their home country. And he had given it to her. "Jason, I don't know what to say." She swallowed hard and brushed another tear away. "It's beautiful. Thank you." She sat down and patted the seat for him.

He shook his head. "I don't think it'll hold a man's weight."

So she stood and dug in her clutch, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Don't laugh. It's probably not true, but a couple of the guys at work who lived in Scotland for a few years said this is part of a Scottish wedding." She set a silver brooch engraved with two intertwined hearts in his hand. "I know it's feminine and supposed to be given to the bride, but I thought you might like a bit of your traditions. It seemed like you didn't want any Scottish traditions in the wedding because they made you sad. I couldn't figure out what the bride is supposed to give the groom in Scottish tradition," she babbled. "The guys at work claimed this is - "

"The luckenbooth brooch. Given as a wedding gift to pin on the blanket of the first-born child for goodluck." A slight lilt slipped out in his speech. He cleared his throat and his gaze lifted to her. "Thank you, Emma." His voice grew thick and he kissed to her brow.

She set a hand on his chest. "You miss Scotland, don't you?"

Pressing his lips together for a moment, he looked down at the brooch. "I haven't, but planning the honeymoon has made me a bit homesick. There's no one and nothing back there to miss, but..." He sighed. "The rolling hills and salty scent of the sea are so beautiful. Life is so much slower there and less complicated."

Wrapping her arms around his middle, she smiled and looked up at him. "No one said we have to live in America, Jason."

He shook his head and stroked her cheek. "Your family is here and our jobs and lives. There's nothing for us in Scotland, but thank you, Emma."

"Show me everything. How long will we be there for the honeymoon?"

He smiled. "About ten days. I should let you get ready for bed. Because we're crossing borders, we can't take the jet without a lot of headache. We have to be at the airport at eight in the morning." He pointed to a door to the right of the bed. "That connects to my room. I'll have Ms. Van Hoodie help you out of your gown." With a kiss on the cheek, he left.

"As pretty as a rose you look," Trudy fussed as she gathered up the large wedding gown. "This will be back from the cleaners and sealed before you're back, don'tcha know. Dr. Port said to put it in the cedar chest - "

Pulling the last pins from her hair while she sat in the full-body slip before the vanity, she looked at Trudy in the mirror. "Chest?"

Trudy grinned and nodded toward the fireplace. To the left of it sat a wooden chest with roses carved into the top. Another wedding gift that he had slipped in without mention. "Your clothes are all in your drawers and closet."

She cocked her head. "Everything was moved from my apartment already?"

The woman blinked. "Oh dearie me, flappin' like a chicken my mouth is. Did he not say? Dr. Port had your things brought over yesterday. Your furniture is in your old bedroom for now and..." She wrung her hands and hurried out.

Walking over to the dresser, she opened the drawers. The finest lingerie filled the top two drawers, everything elegant and practical. She lifted out a delicate, white silk nightgown that was far too cold for January. All of it was beautiful. And all of it was items that had caught her eye when Andy had dragged her into a lingerie store a couple weeks ago. So Andy had been Jason's secret spy. The closet had sweaters, skirts, and other clothes that Andy had claimed were birthday present ideas. He'd bought an entire wardrobe when added together with her existing clothes. A chaffon sapphire gown for the warmer months and a beautiful emerald dress coat hung in the back of the walk-in closet next to a red cowlneck sweater with black stones sewn in. He must've picked those items out himself. The man had impeccable taste.

She showered, needing to lather twice to get all the hairspray out. When she opened her bathroom door wearing only a towel, the door connecting her room to Jason's popped open a hair from the counterpressure. She walked over to shut it and stilled.

Golden firelight flickered. He stood at his bed with his back to her and slung his tux jacket over a nearby chair. He unbuttoned the white dress shirt and slid it down his arms, his body like a work of art with the hills and valleys of muscles rippling. Her heart beat faster and heat pooled in her belly when he unbuckled his belt and began to slide down his pants. She closed the door at the last moment, her heart thundering with desire.

Slipping on an ankle-length satin nightgown, she rubbed her arms and blow dried her hair a bit to keep out the chill. Then she took a deep breath and raced across the cold wood floor on her toes. She knocked on the connecting door. No answer. Cracking the door open, the sound of running water filled the empty room. He must be showering. Goosebumps shimmied up her body from the cold floor, so she ran for the bed and dove under the covers. It smelled woodsy and like Jason. This was safe and familiar. The demons didn't threaten to come out of the shadows here.

The bathroom door creaked a few minutes later and then creaked shut again. She sat upright when it opened again a moment later and he had a towel around his waist and one over his head to towel dry his hair and hide his scars. "Should I not have come in? I thought..." Her voice trailed away and she pulled back the covers to go back to her room.

"Hold on a moment. I don't have the hearing device in." He crossed the room and slipped the mask on behind the towel, which he slung over his shoulder. Then he grabbed the tooth part of the hearing device off the charger, popped it in his mouth, and looked at her.

But she slid out of bed and wrapped her arms around herself. "Sorry, I should've asked first. I thought I was supposed to come in here."

"Don't be silly." He waved a hand for her to get in bed. "You don't have to ask to come in. I didn't expect you to be done yet, so I didn't bring the mask into the washroom. Or my clothes." He scooped up his pajamas from the dresser drawer and headed for the bathroom. The man must've sensed her watching because he glanced at her a couple times after she got in bed.

"Jay?" She wrapped her arms around her knees under the blankets, and he stopped near the left side of the bed, just a few steps from the bathroom. When he turned and looked at her, she bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you probably imagined for a wedding night."

A frown marred his brow. "Don't, sweetheart. This isn't what I imagined when I was younger, but this is better. Some Native American tribes had customs of not consummating for seven days to have time to woo the bride. There's something to be said for that, Emma." Then he disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

She chewed on his words for a moment. He didn't seem upset or disappointed, but as if he meant those words. There wasn't a need to woo her because they'd met thirteen months ago. Only thirteen - it seemed like so long ago, like she'd known him most of her life, which only made this words more of a mystery. When he came out, he wore pajama bottoms and a flannel shirt. "I've never seen you wear a shirt to bed."

He walked around to the right side of the bed, drawing curtains from the canopy that hadn't been there last week. It darkened everything. Then he pulled down the sheets, but he didn't reply as he climbed in.

Pulling her knees to her chest tighter, she frowned. He must've had the canopy and curtains installed because of her - to hide his face. And it hurt that he went to those lengths to keep a wall up, literally and figuratively. "You had the curtains put in because of me, didn't you?"

His side of the bed still didn't have the curtains pulled. The firelight's glow filtered in, and he turned his head to look at her as he sat on her right. "There may be times I don't wake up before you. This allows us to sleep in the same bed. I tend to sleep on my left beca - " He seemed to catch himself. "This will prevent you from waking up to anything unpleasant."

Those words twisted her heart, creating pain that made her chest ache. He still insisted on hiding in the shadows. But it wasn't fair to judge his fear when she had so much fear of being intimate. "You sleep on your left because why?"

Dropping his gaze to his lap, he fell silent for a moment. "The scars are delicate and ulcer if I sleep on my back or right side often." He seemed tense and his chest rose and fell a bit fast like he feared her disgust.

Something about him so vulnerable like this made her stronger and not afraid of her own demons when his came out. "Close the curtain," she said in hushed tones. Her heart beat faster, not with fear or lust, but at the thought of a deeper emotional intimacy that they'd both hidden from.

He closed the curtain and laid down, shame vibrating from every fiber of his being. Without a word, he slipped his mask behind the curtain onto the nightstand on his side of the bed. The thick drapes bathed everything in hues of dark gray and black, hiding his scars from her eyes.

She let go of her knees and slipped off her panties under the blankets, dropping them over the edge of the bed. Then she crossed her arms and pulled the nightgown over her head before adding it to the pile on the floor. Turning to him, she glided a leg over his hip to straddle him and leaned down, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and kissing his lips.

His warm hands touched her sides and immediately pulled away upon the skin-to-skin contact. He broke the kiss. "Emma - "

"No sex," she whispered and swept her tongue past his lips. She guided his hands to her sides again.

Those strong arms wrapped around her back, his hands not wandering, and he drank her kiss with passion.

Her hands glided under his shirt, over the swells of muscles on his abs and up his ribs. She slowly sat back, coaxing him to follow with a kiss. He sat up in an easy, fluid motion without losening his hold on her. The kiss broke only long enough for her to slip the shirt over his head and slide off his pants while she still straddled him.

His arm curled around her back and the other up her spine to cup the back of her head, drawing her against his chest as his tongue dipped into her mouth in a graceful dance. His beautiful tenderness made her heart weep. His desire grew between their bodies, but he didn't seem to even notice. Her arms wrapped around his chest and her head eased back in his hand as he trailed slow, intimate kisses along her neck and back up to her lips.

She cupped his jaw in her hands, and he didn't pull away. One side flexed with beautiful contours and strength. The other side concaved and seemed small and frail without muscle under the deeply pitted flesh. Her tongue caressed his, but he pulled back just long enough to swallow before continuing the kiss. His movements grew more calculated and hesitant as the need to wipe the corner of his mouth grew. Sweeping her thumb along his chin without breaking the kiss, she brushed away the spot that gave him trouble. The right side of his bottom lip was forever frozen in a frown, nearly to the bottom of his jaw. Instead of lip, her thumb ran over exposed gums and the missing lower incisor before encountering lip again. The deformity, about the size of her thumb, was much worse than she'd realized.

He completely froze and tensed, not even breathing, as if horrified what she'd just done.

But she pressed him down into the pillow and continued the kiss, leaning her hands on his shoulders. He gradually returned the kiss when she gave no reaction to what she'd just discovered. His hands grazed up and down her back in a soothing caress. The soft hair of his legs tickled the slightest bit as she wrapped a leg around his thick calf. Desire pooled in her belly, as much as he seemed to desire her, but the need for this calming, gentle romance overwhelmed the lust. Her scalp tingled where he glided a hand through her hair slow and firm. Her body hummed as he wove a spell with his tender love. His tongue dipped into her mouth. And he pulled her down closer until her heart beat against his.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: This chapter is a bit slow but sets up important things for future chapters.**

* * *

She woke up the next morning on her left side in bed with a heavy arm over her hip. There was a chill in the air, likely from the fire burning out during the night, but heat radiated from the body behind her. Without opening her eyes, she scooted back a fraction and closed the gap. Last night had been so perfect even though the extent of lovemaking had gone only as far as kissing and not wearing nightclothes.

Hard, lean muscles arched against her back as he stretched. His hips jerked away in embarrassment. "Apologies." Sleepiness wove through his tone as he nuzzled her hair. "You're even more beautiful in the light," he said, as if that obviously explained his desire.

Her eyes flew open. He must've pulled open his curtain because sunlight flooded in from his side. A finger trailed down her spine and stopped at her hips where the blanket halted him. She started to flip onto her back in embarrassment, but a strong hand held her by the shoulder.

The bed flexed a bit like he leaned up on his elbow. "Let me put the mask on before you revoke my morning pleasure." Slight pressure on her shoulder rolled her onto her stomach. His hot, wet tongue trailed up her spine, creating a shiver of delight. "Dear god, you're beautiful. Your back is like a string of pearls."

Being naked in his bed in daylight and him not wearing the mask seemed so impossibly intimate - more than she could've hoped for already. She kept her arms curled up against her chest and smiled.

"You're as quiet as a kitten. I expected you to shoot to your chambers this morning, taking all the sheets with you." Humor lightened his voice.

Keeping her head turned away from him, she flushed. "Perhaps I don't mind your bed."

"'Don't mind my bed.' I daresay those words could crush a man, but I'll be forgiving because you're being brave by not running away." His fingers trailed down her side and the swell of her hip. "Go ready yourself for the plane, my dear. Another few moments and I will desire seeing your full beauty in the morning light."

She bit her lip in a shy smile, still not looking at him. "Don't look while I find my clothes."

A heavy sigh escaped him. "If I didn't think it'd scare you away, I'd make my case as your husband to be able to watch you."

Her mouth ran dry, almost wishing he'd argue to watch. Of course she'd use the sheet and try to keep decent, but just the idea that she was his now made the butterflies in her belly awaken.

The bed shifted and heavy footsteps crossed the room behind the drapes. Then the bathroom door closed.

Flinging back the covers, she scooped up her clothes and ran into her room.

Trudy and Pete were nowhere in sight downstairs, but two plates of eggs, pancakes, fruit, and sausages sat on the island table. Jason must still be upstairs, with plenty of time until needing to leave for the airport.

She picked up a sausage and wandered the first floor in jeans and her new red sweater. All of this house was hers now too. He had decorated the house so beautifully with antiques arranged in a way that was timeless. Standing in the doorway, her gaze swept over her office that may or may not remain her office.

An arm slipped around her and lips pressed against her cheek from behind. "You're not working. It's our honeymoon."

A smile tugged at her lips. Honeymoon. She leaned back against his chest. "I was just thinking."

He kissed the side of her neck. "You're free to redecorate any room how you wish. Except the cottage room. That's my mancave and you aren't allowed to rip out anything in there." He chuckled and nuzzled her.

"I don't want to change anything. Is this still my office?"

"I don't know. Is it?" He nipped her earlobe. "From everything I've heard, the wife typically determines what goes where."

Pressing a shoulder to her ear, she smiled. "I'd like to keep it as my office."

"Done." He suckled the other side of her neck. "Come to breakfast before I eat you."

She laughed. "Ew, that sounds a bit gruesome." Then she unwrapped his arms and pulled him along.

"Lass, I promise you'd thoroughly enjoy it and wish for dessert."

With a hearty laugh, she spun around to walk backwards and beamed while keeping ahold of his hand. "You think highly of your skills, do you, sir?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "I don't recall any complaints last night, wife."

In the kitchen, the two plates had moved to the table and Pete sat devouring a third while Trudy filled a fourth at the stove.

"You found her. I'd say people wouldn't know what to think if your bride went missing the next morning, don'tcha know." Trudy winked at her and seemed as happy as a clam. "I know ya like my tapioca pudding, so I made a fresh batch this morning. Those probioti...probiotisos...those things are good for keepin' away the flu this time of year. And good for babies too." She tossed a another pancake on the plate.

Her eyes flew to Jason, who rolled his eye. "Ms. Van Hoodie, decorum. She's not a brood mare." He swiped the plate from the counter before Trudy could add another pancake.

"My sister ate my tapioca every day when in the family way and she had hearty babies. You'll thank me, don'tcha know."

He grabbed another plate from the table and turned. "She needs to finish packing, so we're taking our breakfasts upstairs. Excuse us."

"But, I packed her bags," Trudy said with a frown of confusion.

"Go. Just go. Go," he whispered and practically ran her over. The man couldn't seem to escape fast enough.

She took a plate from him as he headed for the stairs. "It's sweet that she wants to make sure we have healthy children."

He snorted. "Let's check what she packed in your suitcase before you say anything else. The woman has been shoving five glasses of milk at me a day the past week, claiming it increases fertility. I daresay she'll come at me with an entire cow if you come home without being pregnant." He took a sharp turn into her room where a suitcase sat packed in the corner. Setting down the plate on the bed, he headed for the suitcase.

"Jay, she's just excited." She sat on the bed and took a bite of eggs. "She sees you a bit like her son, so she's naturally excited about you having children. She wouldn't pack anything that indecent..." The words died on her lips when he held up a risque piece of lingerie with a raised eyebrow from the suitcase. That had definitely not been one of the items she'd looked at with Andy.

"You're thin, but I have no idea exactly what part of you this is supposed to cover. Although I'm game for trying to figure it out if you are." He laughed when she ripped the item out of his hand and whacked his shoulder with it. "I'm sorry, you were saying she wouldn't pack anything indecent?" He pulled out a very short teddy with a thong. "Wait, I take that back. This is one I think we should try." The man turned the sheer garment around to study it with a smile.

She jerked that away from him with burning cheeks. "Go. I'm going through this by myself."

He frowned. "Ohh, I must say I'm disappointed. At least let me see what else she packed if I don't get to see you wear these."

"Out!" She pushed him out the door with his plate, his chuckle still echoing in the room.

A few minutes later, someone knocked in her doorway. She looked up.

Jason stood there with Prince, who carried a sock. "When you're done, come with me for a moment."

She frowned and got up. "Is everything alright?" Crossing the room, she took his proffered arm.

"Yes. It occurred to me that I should inform you of where my will and other logistics are, just in case."

Her feet slammed to a halt. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No." He offered a reassuring smile. "In case something does happen, I want you to know where everything is so you can be provided for." He led her to his office and pushed aside a bookcase to reveal a safe. "The combination is your birthday backwards." He opened the door and showed her a will, life insurance, and other papers. "The life insurance isn't very much because I'm considered a high risk, given my health history, but these stocks and patents make up for it. If money ever becomes a problem even after that, which it shouldn't, I have a note of what appraisers to call. The assets in this house alone should provide for you and children for the rest of your lives."

"I changed my will to you, but I don't think I changed my life insurance. I think it's still to Mom."

"Leave it. She needs the money far more than I." Then he walked over to the corner of his office where a display case held dozens of gems.

"Has this always been here?"

He smiled and nodded. "Each month I find a gem on business trips and add it to the mix." WHen he pressed a finger over a small black pad, it beeped and unlocked the glass case. He took out more stones of every color imaginable and explained which country each had come from. It took two hands to hold all of them by the time he set the twelfth stone in her hands.

"Do you like holding a million dollars?"

Her jaw fell and she stared at Jason. "Seriously?"

He simply chuckled and started wrapping them in cloths and put them in a jewel bag. "Don't let an appraiser tell you they're worth any less."

"What are these for?"

"I'm not sure yet." His brow furrowed. "Do you prefer necklaces or rings?"

She stared. Surely he hadn't just said they're for her.

His eye met hers. "They're birthstones that I've been collecting over the past year. With each child born, a gemstone will be added to the ring or necklace. I knew last January that I would never love anyone like I love you."

Her heart stilled. A year ago he'd known he'd wanted to marry her. She watched him set the jewels in the safe and close the bookcase. Setting a hand on his chest to intercept his path, she searched his face with tears burning behind her eyes. "You're not ill?"

The pad of his thumb stroked her cheek. "No, sweetheart. I watched my mother suffer because my father had nothing planned. I simply want to protect my family's future. No illness has befallen me, Emma." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "We'll be late for the plane."

People stared at him at the airport. He stood tall and pretended to not notice, but his lips remained tight and his brow furrowed with tension.

"Off with the mask," the old security woman droned.

She glanced at him, and his eye closed for a moment in humiliation. "In private," she interjected to spare him the humiliation. "He has - "

"Just take off the mask. You're holding up the line, sir."

"He's been severely burned. He has a right to a private room." She set a hand on his arm when humiliation stained his cheeks.

A second security guard came over. "Everything alright?" He looked at the woman.

"Take him to the back room and get the mask off," the woman sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I'll be right back." He pulled his hand out of hers and left before she could offer him reassurance.

She waited with their luggage. And waited. Then he came down the hall with the male security officer, looking so ashamed that her heart bled for him.

He slung their two carryon bags over his shoulders and grabbed the large suitcase without a word and didn't look at her. With his free hand, he grabbed her hand and headed over to the luggage check-in line. He uncharacteristically kept her on his blind side. And it spoke volumes as to how much he hurt.

Something else had happened to humiliate him. He seemed so fragile right now, so close to wanting to run. Asking him about it would only make him shut down. So she reached for the bag on his scarred shoulder, which shouldn't have that kind of pressure on the delicate scars anways.

"Don't," he snapped. "I can do it." His eye remained locked straight ahead.

"You've carried five times that weight in SEALS training. I just want to stand closer to you, Jay."

Perhaps it was the softness of her voice or the lack of pity in her words, but he glanced down at her and relinquished the bag. When she shouldered it and stepped closer to wrap her arm around his waist, he held her close, as if needing every drop of strength.

"I love you, Jay." She looked up at the mask.

His head turned and he looked down at her, his face softening and brow slowly knitting into an expression of grief. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Why is he wearing a Halloween mask, Mommy?" a little kid asked on the way past.

Jason's eye closed and he bowed his head, his chest rising and falling too fast as the humiliation mounted. He snatched her hand and broke out of line, making a rapid beeline back through where they had entered.

"Jason?" She dug in her heels, but he kept going. So she jerked his hand and used the break in pace to step in front of him and block his path. "Jason, stop and talk to me."

He tried to sidestep her. "I'm not embarrassing you like this."

She grabbed the front of his jacket to halt him. "Stop and look at me. Jason, look at me." Cupping his cheek and the mask, she forced his head to look down. Panic filled his eye. "We're not running. People will stare and comment, but they're ignorant. I love you, and I'm proud to be your wife. You will never embarrass me, and you should not ever let anyone humiliate you. We're going to get on that plane, and you're going to hold your head high. You didn't let me run from my demons, and we're not going to run from yours. We're going to do this together." It seemed cruel to make him do this, but the more he let the monster build, the more impossible it would be to overcome until he'd eventually become a recluse again.

The poor man swallowed hard and looked scared, but he gave a reluctant nod.

She stepped up to the desks and took charge of everything even without having ever been in an airport before. And being shy. And a normally nervous around even male clerks. But one look at Jason, who had withdrawn into himself and hadn't been able to look anybody in the eye since the incident with security, brought out the bravery from deep down within.

"Sir, we don't allow masks on the plane due to security," the stewardess said when boarding.

It became more and more apparent why Jason had his own jet. Before Jason could even open his mouth, she stepped between him and the woman. "It's for medical reasons and security already cleared it when we went through _security_." Irritation dripped from her voice and she didn't flinch from the woman's glare.

"I don't care if he got through security, it's not allowed on the plane."

"If you got a problem with it, call security. Tell them we said 'hi.'" She grabbed Jason's hand and pulled him down the aisle to the seat number matching the tickets.

He hefted her bag into the overhead compartment and then his own. "Em, I appreciate the protectiveness, but you shouldn't get so upset. This is what people are like..." The words died on his lips when he turned and she waited for him to have the window seat for privacy. "Go."

She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. "You're taking the window seat."

"You - "

"If you're going to argue that I won't get to see anything, I'm going to argue that we'll be too high to see anything and I can lean over you when there is something to see. Sit."

"Hey! You're holding everyone up!" a man called in the bottleneck behind her.

Heaving a great sigh, Jason slid into the row and took the window seat. "You're damn stubborn, do you know that?"

She sat in the middle seat beside him. "You need someone who can be more stubborn than you." Then she leaned over with a big kiss. When she pulled back, a smile actually curled up the corner of his mouth. Then his eye shifted to the front of the plane, and his smile died.

Her gaze followed. The stewardess hung up the plane phone and headed over. Heaving herself up to stand and argue with the woman, Jason tugged the back of her jeans and she plopped down into the seat again.

"Emma," he warned.

The stewardess stopped. "We apologize. Security should've sent word that everything had been cleared. Can I get you anything?"

"Not at the moment, thank you," Jason said while she stilled stared in surprise. When the stewardess left, he looked at her. "Forgive me, Emma. I panicked in the airport and put you in an uncomfortable position."

With a frown, she met his eye. "Sometimes you need someone to take the reins. And sometimes it's good for me to have to deal with men. We're a team, Jay."

He smiled and leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you, Emma."

"I love you too. Hey, I have a question." She sat back with energy, and he almost looked disappointed. His hand slipped into hers. "I thought 'Mac' in surnames was Scottish and 'O' was Irish."

Holding her hand in his lap, he stroked up and down her arm with a smile on his lips. "True. My father's father passed when he was an infant. Apparently when my grandmother remarried, she married an Irishman who insisted that she and her son take the O'Malley name."

"Your father didn't want to change it back when he grew up?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

A bit of a bitter light flickered in his eye. "My father was too lazy to care. My mother didn't know this until after they wed. She thought it might have been one of the reasons for being disowned - marrying an Irishman. His step-father didn't like Scots, even though he'd married one. The rest you know."

"That's terrible. Did you want to change your name back?"

He sat back in his seat and nodded. "After my mother died, I was looking into it. But then with the fire, it didn't matter." Sadness filled his eye.

"What would your name have been?" She studied his dark features and the strong bone structure of his face.

"MacLeod." That vibrant blue eye shifted to her.

A smile touched her lips. "MacLeod." It didn't sound like how he said it. "Wait, how do you say it?"

"Mah-cloud, with a harsh 'h' and accent on the 'o.'" He smiled.

"MacLeod." She frowned when it didn't sound the same.

He chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Close enough. Your accent is still hanging on."

" _My_ accent? Honey, we're still in the States. I don't have an accent until we reach Scotland." She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him down for a peck on the lips.

"Ye ken yer goin' ta stick out a wee bit there w' tha' accent, lass? The lads be wantin' ta steal ye away." His burr grew impossibly rich and sent tingles down her spine.

Her cheeks burned hot and a shy smile bloomed as she sat back and shifted her eyes to her lap. The man knew the reaction his accent caused. "You enjoy being a rake sometimes, don't you?"

"When it entices a blush from my bride, I do." A smile tinted his voice as the accent gradually faded away. His finger stroked in a feather-light caress along the left side of her jaw, coaxing her gaze back to him. A soft smile touched his lips. "I only tease, sweetheart," he purred in a low baritone for her ears alone. "I like that you find pleasure in me and I can make you blush."

Biting her lip to hold back a smile, her cheeks grew hotter and butterflies awoke in her belly. His intimate, tender gaze made it impossible to look away. The beauty in him shined so bright whenever this confident side of him emerged. This was the man the fire had buried beneath the scars - the man who had the courage to conquer anything. His confidence would keep growing if it was nurtured, if there was love to feed it.

Looking up at him from beneath her lashes, she held his gaze even though it made her heart stumble over itself in soft pitter patters. "I shouldn't speak of such things here," she breathed so as not to be overheard, "but I liked the intimacy of last night without there being sex...of just being with you."

He cupped her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. "I liked that too, Emma. I suspect, though, that your courage was spent last night. You surprised me." Then he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Oh goodness, never in a thousand years would it have occurred that a man could be so gentle or so patient in waiting for the marriage to be consummated. He made it seem so much less frightening. She held his eye. "I wanted to be closer to you last night."

"And it was perfect," he whispered and grazed his lips over hers.

* * *

Scotland was a bit warmer than expected. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, but it was hard to see much else being the plane landed not long after sunset, with the layovers and time difference.

Jason seemed so different the moment his foot touched the land. He smiled more, laughed more, and even bantered a bit with the locals while waiting for the taxi. No one commented on the mask. A few people took a second glance, but that was it. The American accent melted away, and so did the strain from his face. Something about this land resonated with him. He fell into local slang or perhaps a blend of English and Gaelic with the people inside the small airport - none of it made much sense, so she simply sat with his arm around her and watched him bloom.

A small taxi chugged through the rolling hills, and she cuddled up to him. The temperature seemed to drop in the car with each passing minute even though the heater blew full force.

He wrapped an arm around her. "Almost there. It's a small bed an' breakfast run by an elderly couple. They serve breakfast an' dinner. Simple lodgings, but Ah thought it'd be a bit more romantic."

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder in the middle of the backseat.

After a few more minutes, a quaint two-story stone house appeared through the soft snowfall. The soft golden glow of the windows gave a welcoming, warm invitation to come sit by a fire with a cup of cocoa...or cuddle up with a sweetheart.

Jason and the taxi driver carried the bags to the front step and knocked.

A white-whiskered portly man with a smoking pipe opened the door. "Guid evenin! Ye must be t' newlyweds." The man's heavy accent blurred the rest of the conversation as he ushered them inside a warm kitchen with a potbelly stove heating the house. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling over an island counter in a true old-fashioned farm kitchen.

Jason seemed to understand the man and smiled. "Thank ye - " He glanced at her and must've noticed her blank look because he toned back the slang and accent a bit. "Aye, Jason Port and my wife, Emma." He shook the man's hand.

Shaking the man's hand, she smiled. "Hello."

His beefy hand ate hers in a brisk shake. "Bonnie lass. Ye be makin' the local lads jealous w' her." The sweet man enunciated a bit more, as if he'd picked up on Jason's altered speech for her sake. "Call me John. Every other lad around 'ere is John, so just yell t' name and help will come a'running." He belly laughed.

A small woman with hair slicked back in a white bun came into the kitchen, wiping her arthritic hands on her apron. "Johnnie Boy, where are ye manners?" She held out her hand. "Alisa. Ye be Jason and Emma?"

"Yes, it's a pleasure." She carefully shook Alisa's frail hand. The woman had a surprisingly strong grip.

"An American?" Alisa looked at Jason in surprise and then back at her without waiting for a response. "Do ye live in America?"

She blinked and glanced at Jason. "Yes. In Colorado, but I grew up in Chicago."

"Ah! Chicago. Is it all grand like in t' movies?" Alisa linked her arm and led the way out of the kitchen.

"T' woman always dreamin' about America. Heid full o'fluff, I say," John grumbled to Jason.

When Alisa and John finally shut the bedroom door, she sighed in exhaustion. "I didn't know my life was so interesting."

Jason smiled and sent to work cleaning the bathroom, which had no counter space and could only fit one person at a time. He insisted on doing it himself so she wouldn't get dirty. When he emerged, he squinted a bit like he was in pain. "You look tired." His accent didn't entirely fade, but it wasn't as thick as it was around the locals. "Do you want to shower first? There won't be an excess of hot water."

She frowned. "Do you have a headache?" Reaching up, she massaged his temple.

His eye fluttered closed. "The headrest on the plane made my neck ache, so I have a migraine starting." When she didn't comment, he added, "Yes, it's because my neck is deformed."

"Do not put words in my mouth, Jay. I don't think you're deformed."

He snorted and opened his eye. "Then you're in for a surprise."

Dropping her hand, she set it on her hip. "Go get ready for bed. You're the dirtiest and need to sleep."

He grabbed his things and walked to the bathroom door. "Things aren't quite as extravagant as back home, but part of that is also the age of the house."

A smile upturned her mouth. "I sort of like being in tight quarters with you - it's kind of homey."

"We'll see what you say after a couple days," he muttered. "I actually had us booked for a few nights at a castle, but a political figure bumped us."

Pursing her lips, she surveyed the room that had a queen-sized bed with a quilt, a single window with lace curtains and a shade, and a small fireplace. And a closet that barely fit the suitcases and a bathroom that would fit two at a time - if someone stood in the shower. "I think I like this more." Then she looked at him. "Go shower."

He emerged a few minutes later wearing pajama bottoms and a white ski mask instead of the black one.

She mentally sighed. Of course he hadn't left the ski mask at home. Then she got up from where she'd kept warm by the crackling fireplace.

"I would've lit the fire. "

Grabbing his arm, she led him to the bed. "Hush, husband." Then she pushed him down and nudged him to turn onto his belly. "Let me rub your neck and see if it helps." She sat on the edge of the bed, and he searched her face for a moment, as if uncertain.

Wrapping a hand around his large bicep, she tugged with enough force to make it clear that 'no' was not an option. "It's alright, Jay."

He laid down but propped his chin on his hands, every fiber of him tense.

"I can't rub your neck when your head is up." Every ounce of patience exuded in her voice. When his chest rose and fell a bit faster, she set a hand on his back in comfort. She laid her fingers on his left cheek to stop him from lying on the scarred side, and she guided him to turn the blind side up toward her. "You said last night that you shouldn't lie on your right side much. It's just me, honey." It must be the fact that he'd have no control of where her hands touched that made him seem almost...frightened. "I won't go higher than your neck." She glided her hand over his back in a reassuring caress.

He didn't respond, but his breaths continued short, shallow, and tense.

Asking if the massage pressure was too much for the scars would make him even more self-conscious, so she started on top of the mask with soft strokes down the back of his neck. Then she stood for better leverage against his thick muscles and massaged his back, mindful of the delicate tissue on his right shoulder, before repeating the soft strokes on his neck.

His muscles began to relax and his breathing evened out. Otherwise, he remained quiet. Now he seemed more comfortable with being touched and to have the neck rub.

Working up his back, she rubbed where the mask started at the base of his neck. With just the pads of her fingers, she slid under the mask a couple centimeters. "Does - " The bed jiggled...and she stared at an empty bed. She blinked and looked across the bed.

A wide blue eye behind the mask stared down at the floor, and his chest heaved.

If she moved, he'd bolt altogether. So she stayed still. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew I was going to reach under. I thought rubbing any harder through the mask would be too much friction - "

He walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

Her heart stilled mid-breath. And then plummeted. She bit her lip and stared down at the bed. He'd never been this spooked, snd had never walked out on her mid-sentence. Staying might make him feel too caged, too trapped. Leaving the room might make him feel abandoned or guilty for reacting. Giving him the option to choose was best. So, she walked to the bathroom door and gave a soft rap. "Jason, I'm sorry." Silence.

Never before had he been so hurt that he'd so blatantly avoided her. This wall he'd thrown up to protect himself hurt. But it was deserved - she should've clarified that it was alright to cross boundaries. With a heavy heart, she went downstairs.

She stood at the kitchen sink in the dark with a glass of water and stared out the window. The moonlight reflected off the rolling acres of fresh, powdery snow. It should've been a breathtaking sight to open the curtains in the bedroom, curl up with Jason under the covers by a roaring fire, and listen to his tales of Scotland. Instead, here they were on the second night of marriage, with her in a cold kitchen nursing an aching heart and him upstairs feeling so alienated. With a sad sigh, she turned. And stopped in surprise.

Jason stood in the doorway of the kitchen wearing his pajama shirt and the half mask. He stood there for a moment, simply watching. The sadness in his eye, though, broke her heart.

When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. He'd apologize but he needed to be the one to get the apology. "Jason, I'm sorry. I thought..." Her words faded as he came closer, his eye narrowing on her lips. "Um, that you...Is your hearing device working?"

He stopped beside the sink and faced her, his eye glinting an icicle blue in the moonlight. His fingertip hooked under her chin and guided her face toward the moonlight. "What were you saying?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you meant for me to touch your neck."

His eye squinted a hint. "I can't see in this light well enough to know what you're saying. Both of my hearing devices are dead and on the charger right now."

So that's why he'd been so silent for the backrub - he hadn't heard or seen her talking. He probably hadn't even understood what she was doing. That must've been why he'd spooked so bad. The relief that it hadn't been because she'd hurt him swelled up so fast that she threw her arms around his middle. Pressing her cheek against his chest, she held him tight.

"Emma?" He stroked her hair and held her.

She gave a watery smile and shook her head. Then she took his hand and pulled him upstairs.

The firelight in the bedroom cast a stronger glow. He immediately pulled her to a halt and bent down a bit to be eye level and touch her cheek. "Why did you try taking off the mask?" Worry, fear, uncertainty, hurt...all the emotions battled at the surface in his eye.

"I wasn't trying to take it off." She searched his eye in concern. "I promised I wouldn't do that."

His eye squinted a bit like he frowned. "I think I missed something. What were you doing?"

"When you came out of the shower, I said I'd give you a neckrub for your headache. I thought rubbing through the mask would be too rough on the scars and that you were alright with me touching when you didn't object. I thought you left because I scared you. I mean, I know I scared you but - "

His finger pressed to her lips and a slight smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. "Your back was to the fire and I wasn't looking, so I had no idea you were speaking. I couldn't figure out why you wanted me to get in bed, particularly when you still had to shower. I thought when you gave the backrub and rubbed my neck that you were trying to get me to relax to take off the mask, but I didn't think you'd actually do that. But then when you reached underneath, it surprised me and I panicked."

She frowned, a bit hurt. "You think I'd try to look without asking you?"

"No, which is why I was confused and panicked." Strain still existed around his mouth.

His intense, terrified reaction is what hurt most. Even her panic attacks had practically dissipated because of the trust established now. But he would always keep that distance, that wall of safety that wouldn't let anything out...and wouldn't ever completely let trust in either. "You still have a headache, don't you?"

"It's nothing, I just need to sleep - "

Setting a hand on his arm silenced him. "Let me try again?"

"Em, it's disgusting. Sleep and asprin will take care of the headache. I'll grab the hearing device - one probably has enough charge by now to get through most of the night." He stepped into the washroom and came out a moment later, stopping when he looked at her still standing in the same spot.

It was a wall he still needed up, even though she hated it. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped around him to go shower.

Except, he spoke when she reached the bathroom doorway. "I don't wish for you to spend your life nursing me." Grief and self-consciousness filled those words.

She turned to face his back. "A headache isn't nursing an invalid; it's taking care of my husband. You don't..." Biting her lip, she swallowed down the words that were so hard to admit. "You're so independent. You don't...need me." Saying it hurt more than just knowing it. He turned, but she dropped her eyes to keep from crying. "I know you don't _need_ me along at the hospital if you have surgery, or _need_ me to rub your neck because aspirin would work just as well or better." She wrapped her arms around herself, growing self-conscious as she stumbled over trying to explain what he would never understand or permit. So she turned to close the bathroom door.

He stepped forward and held a hand on the door to keep it open. "Emma, how can you think I don't need you? My reaction didn't have anything to do with needing or not needing you. I was confused and misinterpreted your actions."

Her eye held his. "And your distance now isn't to prove that you don't need me to 'nurse' you?" Tears welled when he looked away.

"That's different."

"Is it? You're never going to let me forget that physically you're never going to need me to help with anything. That line is not as hard drawn as you think, Jason. Eventually you're not going to need me to talk to when you have a bad day at work. And then when something goes on with the kids. And pretty soon we're living a canyon apart. I _know_ there will always be carefully calculated intimacy. And there will always be punishment if a line is crossed - perhaps not a raised hand, but withdrawn intimacy or discord or awkwardness between us. You warned me, and I signed up for this. I just didn't expect we'd hit the limit within twenty-four hours of being married." She released a shakey sigh and reached for the doorhandle.

He took a step into the bathroom, looking guilt-ridden. "Emma - "

"No, just..." She looked down and held the doorknob simply for something to hold onto for the ache so deep inside. Because she couldn't hold onto him. "I'm tired and emotional right now, and we're just going to argue. You're going to feel guilty and give in, which will only create resentment later. I just need a few minutes."

But he didn't budge when she tried to close the door. "A few minutes that will teach you to how to put up a wall so you don't hurt like this again. We're both taking steps back and hurting each other. I think we both need to take a step forward, even though we're scared it's going to bring heartache." He held out his hand.

She looked at it for a moment.

"You're right. I'm avoiding your touch altogether because my greatest fear is you not wanting to touch me, whether it's from fear or a bit of disgust or what have you." He took her hand and ran a finger over the wedding ring while looking down. A hard swallow convulsed his throat. His voice came out quiet and humiliated. "I feel crippled sometimes, Emma. The blindness and deafness, not feeling when you touch the scars, not being able to eat meals with you, and the deformities...sometimes it's still overwhelming. I want to be your competent man, not some disabled thing you have to nurse."

He'd never been this open before about how this all made him feel. She stepped closer and laid a hand on his chest.

That blue eye rose to meet her gaze. "I know I stare sometimes, and I think it'll only happen more in the bedroom - I'll make an effort to be conscious of it. Your beauty, Emma, makes me forget what I am. At times just knowing that you're mine, that you chose me, it makes me feel like a whole man." He closed his eye for a moment, as if basking in the memories of it. "Sometimes I need that so much - when you're feeding me that and not even knowing."

"Jason, I do see you as a whole man." She stroked his cheek through the mask.

His eye focused on her. "I know, but sometimes it's hard to believe it."

She nodded, understanding what he meant because even though he didn't see her as flawed because of Gaston, she felt like it.

"Come." He took her hand and led her to the bed. "Small steps. No touching under the mask, but light rubbing over it won't hurt the scar tissue." She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "Don't argue. If I cry foul now, it's going to be that much harder next time. I'm doing this for us, not for you. Last night you were brave, so it's my turn." Then he sat on the edge of the bed, a little tense in his posture.

The man seemed determined, so she sat sideways in his lap with her hands on his shoulders. "Just remember two things, Jay."

His arms locked around her, and his eye squinted a bit from pain. "And what are those?"

Holding his gaze, she said in soft tones. "I love you and it's just me." She cupped his cheek.

A sad sigh stirred the strands of hair near her ear. "There is no such thing as 'just you,' Em - "

She cut off his words with a kiss. He stilled, so she parted her lips with another gentle kiss. Some of the tension melted from his shoulders. Another kiss and his lips parted just enough. A soft stroke of her tongue between his lips and his warm tongue joined her in a calming dance.

Her hands glided up over the mask along the sides of his neck and stilled, simply leaving time for him to get used to the sensation of his neck being touched, if he could even feel it.

He suddenly broke the kiss, clasping her wrists and bracing his forehead against hers with a closed eye. His breath hitched and he panted in short, quick bursts as if trying to brace against pain.

"Jay?" His neck on the left side tensed under her hand and pulled his head to the side a bit. A muscle spasm that could potentially harm his discs because of the lack of muscle on the right side to support his head. Her fingers dug in a hard massage to stop the contraction as she climbed around on the bed behind him. Her other hand worked free the contracted muscles extending to his shoulder.

After a few moments, he started breathing again, albeit a bit heavy. The spasm seemed to relent a bit.

"Lie down, honey. It'll come back if we don't loosen you up."

He laid face-down and rested his forehead on the back of his hands without a word, but the embarrassment vibrated throughout the room from him.

Once he was positioned and she stood beside the bed for strong leverage to work his shoulders loose, she ventured to break the silence. "Did I cause that?"

"No," he grunted, still working to breathe through the pain. "It happens a couple times a year, usually after I sleep oddly."

Or is forced to sit in a poorly constructed plane seat for nine hours. "Where does it still hurt?"

"Em, it's good enough..." Then he stopped himself, perhaps remembering their earlier conversation about opening up more. "My right shoulder where it meets my neck," he finished in soft tones.

So her right hand traveled to where the mask ended and the scarred flesh of his shoulder began. She pressed in a bit with the pads of her fingers and wove small circles so as to disturb his skin as little as possible. The muscle here was thinner and more damaged than his other side. A deep sigh of relief escaped him, and she smiled. The very tips of her fingers disappeared under the mask to work out the tightness there too.

Another soft hum-sigh filled the room, and his body began to turn to putty. His breathing evened out.

"Just up to the base of your skull," she leaned down and whispered in his ear. "I've touched your neck before." Although only a very small area of it.

A small, lazy nod was his response. The warped flesh, without much more than tendon, vessels and bone padding underneath, required a very gentle touch.

She swallowed hard. It was amazing he had survived, and touching the damage over such a delicate area made it hit home.

"Emma?" Sleep threaded through his voice. "You don't have to touch."

"I want to touch wherever you'll let me, Jay."

He turned his head so his left cheek rested on the bed. "I want you to touch and want more," he whispered. "It's always hurt for days..." And then deep breathing filled the room as he fell asleep.

Tears welled. He'd never let anyone touch him like this to stop the pain. "I'll always want to touch you, my Jay," she whispered and kissed his cheek. Then she pulled up the sheets and tucked him in.

A warm shower helped chase the Scotland chill from her bones. Stepping out of the shower in her towel, she looked around. In her haste into the bathroom during the argument, she hadn't brought in nightclothes.

She cracked open the door and peeked out. He still laid sprawled on the bed and softly snoring. The chill of the room assaulted, so she tiptoed over the cold floor to the suitcase near the warmth of the fire. Draping her towel over the back of a chair, she slid on panties. The floor creaked when she set her foot down, adding to the homeliness of the crackling fire and snowy winter night. The heat of the flames held the cold, damp air at bay, like a warm caress over her bare skin. Jason's deep breathing filled the room behind her, so she faced the fire and tilted her head, running her hands through her hair to dry it a bit. Goodness, the heat lapped up the dampness from her bare skin. Drops of water flicked from the ends of her hair upon running her fingers through the tangled locks. She ran her hands down her arms and over her breasts and stomach to wipe away the sprinkles. A long-winded sigh came from Jason. She smiled - he must be in a good, deep sleep for once.

Then she slipped on the nightgown, now also warmed from the fire. She turned to the bed and froze.

Jason's deep breathing still filled the room, but he laid on his side watching.

A hearty flush crept up her neck. "You were supposed to be sleeping."

"I woke up when I heard the floor creak." He didn't seem one bit remorseful. "You looked so beautiful before the fire. But I know it's too soon to ask to see you again." He pulled down the covers and scooted back, offering the warmed side of the bed. "No sex or looking...I simply ask for you to come to bed as my wife."

Her toes curled on the hardwood floor. "Naked, you mean."

"That is my preference, but it is your choice."

Hesitating for a moment and biting her lip, she slipped into bed. His heat warmed her toes. Then she pulled the covers to her chin and wiggled out of her nightgown.

He pulled out his pants from under the blankets, took her clothes, and tossed them onto the chair without sitting up. Then he looked at her. "Does the mask frighten you in bed?"

"The white one doesn't seem as threatening." But she didn't move closer. "Is your headache gone?" Her heart beat faster, both wishing for and dreading if he would touch.

"It is. Thank you." Silence.

Her nerves wound tighter and tighter when he didn't move. "Are you going to touch me?"

That blue eye searched her face for a moment. "Not tonight. You're nervous. When you desire to be touched, then I'll touch you." He kept a small gap between their bodies. His arm came out from under the covers and draped on top of the covers over her belly. "Go to sleep, love."

She rolled onto her side away from him and scooted back against his heat. His arm tightened around her. "Jason?" Her voice carried no louder than a whisper. "I don't think I'll be ready after tomorrow night."

"I know, sweetheart. There is no reason to rush anything. Three days was simply to make you feel extra safe that nothing will happen. It doesn't mean anything has to change after tomorrow night."

She swallowed hard. "Jason, I want to, but I'm scared."

His warm lips brushed her bare shoulder. "Then it's too soon, Emma. Be patient with yourself. You'll know when it's the right time."

The topic was getting too serious for tonight. She slipped an arm out and pulled his under the blankets to wrap around her middle. "It's not that much colder here than at home, but there's a dampness that gets in your bones and hangs on. I need my Scot to keep me warm."

A smile tinted his voice. "Aye, lass."

But his tense posture kept a small distance. She reached back to wrap a hand around his thigh to pull him closer. And encountered unnaturally smooth skin.

He instantly pulled her hand away. "More scars from donor skin grafts."

She rolled onto her back and looked up at him leaning on his elbow to look down at her. Swallowing hard, she held back the heartache for him. "Do you ever hurt?"

"Not anymore, sweetheart." He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her forehead.

An unexpected bit of fear rose up about seeing him naked, because it would mean realizing the full pain and trauma he had endured all alone. She reached up and touched his cheek. "Never have surgery because of me. You've suffered enough, Jay."

His teeth peeked out through the mask in a smile and his eye softened as he leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "Ah, Emma," he sighed. "I know. Your heart wouldn't wish surgery on even the ugliest monsters. It's what I love about you - that even if you saw me, you wouldn't ask me to endure anything more. But I would for you."

"I know you would. That's why you have to promise that even if I see you someday, you won't have surgery." When he didn't answer, she frowned and offered a stern look. "Promise me."

"We will see."

"No." She cupped the sides of his neck, slipping her fingers under the mask a bit. "I do not avoid your touch, Jay. If you have surgery, what's to stop you from always wondering if I do not recoil because I love you or because you changed what I see?" Her brow knit so tight that it hurt. "Promise me."

Searching her eyes, he frowned. "I promise we could discuss it first."

She scowled. "That's not what I said. You're so stubborn." Then she rolled onto her side and backed up against him fully.

He hissed in a breath and his desire became evident. His hand ran up the bare curve of her hip. "I have to go to bed before you if I'm to get any sleep."

His heart thundered against her back, and his desire grew even more. "Jay? I'm glad you still desire me after him." She bit her lip in self-consciousnessand held her pillow.

His hand stopped caressing up and down her side "What he did has no affect on how I feel about you, sweetheart." The bed shifted and he kissed her shoulder. "You're beautiful and strong. I never want you to be afraid to let me see your body, Emma."

She rolled onto her back and looked up at him propped on his elbow. It ached inside. Sad grief that couldn't be quite pinpointed drew a curtain around her. She turned into her side toward him, keeping her arms curled up against her chest.

He laid down and slipped his arm under her head, pulling her closer. "It'll be alright, sweetheart," he whispered and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, love. You're safe and I love you."

* * *

 _Her heart raced. Someone lurked in the shadows at home in Colorado. The lights wouldn't turn on. She tiptoed down the corridor toward from her old bedroom to Jason's room. Someone watched. The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. Her hands shook as she crept toward the staircase. Jason. She had to get to Jason's room._

 _The stairs creaked._ _She froze. Her heart shot into her throat. Horrifying fear paralyzed every muscle. Another creak. Whomever it was drew closer, just a few steps away. Oh god. No. Not again. Dear god, no. Terrified tears ran down her cheeks._

 _A cold hand grabbed her wrist. A flashlight flipped on under the chin of a hideous face. Gaston. A scream ripped out of her throat. "Jaso - !" But_ _he clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her into a bedroom._

Her eyes shot open.

Warm arms held her tight against a familiar chest. "Shhh, it's a nightmare. I'm here." Jason's hand stroked her back. "You're safe," he promised, somehow seeming to know what had happened.

Clutching his biceps, she buried her face against his bare chest and sobbed.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, she threw on jeans and an oversized blue corded sweater. It wasn't the most attractive outfit, but it would ward against the cold. Then she dabbed on lipstick and a little concealer under her eyes to hide the shadows from the nightmare last night. Even though sleep had returned quickly, it hadn't been restful. Jason probably hadn't slept well either from her tossing and turning, but he had woken up early enough to leave a note on the pillow that he'd gone downstairs to grab their breakfast. She pulled on some thick socks and then headed downstairs.

He stood at the stove making eggs while John brewed coffee and Alisa made some kind of white gruel. A plate of steaming sausages and toast sat on the table, along with a bowl of baked beans and mushrooms. This could be interesting.

John was the first to spot her. "Guid mornin', lass! Ah hope ye brought yer appetite." Alisa looked up with a smile.

Jason glanced over his shoulder. "Mornin', sweetheart." His brow knit and he held out a hand.

"Morning." She offered everyone a smile and then walked over to Jason.

He tucked her against his side. "Are you doing alright?" He dropped his voice for privacy. "You look tired and seemed restless last night."

She ran a hand through her hair and leaned against him as he flipped the eggs. "Did I keep you awake?"

"I woke up a couple times, but I'm fine. Go on back to bed. I'll bring our plates up in five minutes, sweetheart, and then we can talk about your dream."

"No, I'm alright." She helped Alisa make the porridge and then sat down to breakfast with everyone.

"What's are ye up ta this mornin'?" Alisa handed Jason the mushrooms.

"They be newlyweds. What do ye think he be wantin' ta do w' his lass?" John cut in with a look to his wife.

Her face burned and not a single reply came to mind.

Jason simply chuckled and passed her the mushrooms. "We won't be doing much venturing out with the snowstorm." Then he took the porridge and glanced at her. "We haven't discussed our day." He laid an arm across the back of her chair and stroked a thumb along the far side of her neck as he continued the conversation with the couple but didn't touch his plate.

She flushed and continued eating, ignoring Jason's caress. His fingers glided just a couple centimeters under her collar to draw small circles on her shoulder as he discussed politics with John. Goodness, he may as well announce to everyone that he had plans for the bedroom this afternoon. The intimacy grew and her stomach knotted until some distance from him would be the only way to calm the jitters. She stood and gathered up the plates. "I'll help you wash, Alisa."

Jason looked up at her in surprise and seemed to study her for a second before answering John's question.

"Ye alright, lass?" Alisa handed her a towel at the sink to dry and then filled up the sink with soap and water.

"Yes. It's a little overwhelming at times getting used to being married." She took a wet plate from Alisa.

The older woman smiled. "The menfolk be a bit overly affectionate t' first few days. John had me tired our first week. But then life goes back ta normal an' ye be wishin' for this time again."

"Oh no, I mean, he's not...I don't mean like that." Her cheeks burned and she focused on the bowl in hand. "I'm not sure what I mean."

"Vulnerable." Alisa handed over another plate, her voice understanding. "Ye need tea and a coze." She washed her hands and set a teapot on the stove.

Strong hands rested on her shoulders and warm breath stirred the strands of hair by her ear. "I overheard a bit, sweetheart. John needs some help chopping wood for the furnace and feeding the sheep. Perhaps I should go help him with some chores for the morning." His voice kept low so as not to be overheard. "I think I pushed you too far last night and triggered the nightmare. I'm sorry, Emma. Some time alone to unwind would be good for you. We can talk when I get back." Remorse filled his voice.

She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Jay."

He frowned. "Never be sorry for saying what you need. It's alright, sweetheart." With a kiss to her cheek, he threw on his coat, gloves, and boots and went outside with John.

She sat in the kitchen and chatted with Alisa and drank tea for the next couple hours. The time apart did help to unwind from the stress of the nightmare and all of the excitement of the past couple days. She glanced out the window and bit her lip when the storm showed no sign of letting up.

"They're safe in t' barn, Emma. They be back in a short time now." Alisa reached across the table and patted her hand. "It's good fer ye ta miss 'im a wee bit."

The men traipsed into the kitchen all covered in snow. "Alisa, some warm ale ta warm us, lass," John ordered as they peeled off the layers.

Jason's plastic mask had likely absorbed the cold and given his scars frostbite. She got up and went to him while Alisa got the ale. Reaching up to check his face, she sighed in relief when he turned around and pulled down his hood. He wore the ski mask.

Alisa offered Jason a steaming ale that he wouldn't be able to drink easily anyways.

She froze. Drink. There weren't straws in the suitcase and Alisa probably didn't have any either for him. He'd be confined to drinking in the bathroom.

He shook his head. "I'm alright, thank you. I think I'll hop in the shower and warm up." But he slipped a cup from the cupboard and headed upstairs.

A quick peek in the fridge revealed his uneaten plate of breakfast too. She pulled it out and threw it in the old microwave.

"There be somethin' wrong w' t' lad's face?" John asked from the table as he sipped his ale.

"John!" Alisa scolded.

She offered a sad smile. "It's alright. He was in a fire a few years ago. It causes him trouble with being able to eat."

Alisa frowned. "He didn't eat. Would it be better if John and Ah ate afterwards - "

"Oh no. He'd feel bad kicking you out of the kitchen. He's stubborn about eating even in front of me. I'll take him up breakfast. Thank you."

He stepped out of the bathroom in a thick sweater, jeans, and heavy socks. A light pink flush blanketed his skin, likely from a very hot shower. He wore the plastic mask and rubbed his hands together. "Sweet mother, it's freezing."

"Probably because you were in zero-degree weather and didn't eat breakfast. Eat and I'll start a fire." She handed him the warm plate and then turned her back to offer him some privacy while she got the fire roaring.

After a few minutes, he sat on the floor to her right and set aside an empty plate. "Emma, do we need to talk about this morning?" Hesitance filled his voice.

She sighed and took his hand. It was cool yet. So she pulled a blanket off the bed and cocooned herself in with him to warm him up. "It all just seems so intense since the wedding." With a glance up, she bit her lip.

He didn't comment at first but then gave a slow nod. His eye turned to the fire. "Is it too much being in the same room at night? I feel you pulling away, but I don't quite understand why or how to fix it." His eye squinted a bit. "I see you trying harder and being more open, but it's as if the more we try, the farther apart we end up." Then his eye fell to her.

Biting her lip, she stared at the fire. Tears welled. "Who on their honeymoon needs a break from each other? Maybe we got married too soon. Maybe we should've dated longer and been engaged longer." She burst into tears.

"Whoa, whoa, sweetheart." His arms wrapped around her. "Our rhythm is off, that's all. It's an adjustment and sharing a bedroom has more stresses for us than most couples. We're going to be alright." He kissed her brow. "I think perhaps you're tired and that's not helping any of this seem less huge."

But the tears wouldn't stop. When he pulled her into his lap, it was so comforting and the fire was so warm. Emotions were all so jumbled up. She fell asleep in his arms.

When she woke up, her head hurt. She laid in bed.

Jason sat on the edge of it and wiped her brow with a cool rag. Concern wrinkled his forehead. "Hello, sweetheart. You fell sleep and started running a fever a half hour ago. How are you feeling?"

"Head hurts," she croaked, her voice rough. It was an effort to force out any sound. When he set the rag in the bowl and palpated under her jaw.

He pulled down the sheets and examined her skin, as if searching for a rash. Apparently he had stripped off her clothes.

But feeling like a truck had plowed through her head, it didn't matter how much he saw.

Then he proceeded with nearly a full physical exam before closing his medical bag. "The town physician can't make it through the storm, and we can't drive to the hospital. It seems viral. The strep test was negative too. Let's see if acetaminophen will help control the fever."

"You shouldn't be here," she rasped and burrowed deeper under the covers. The room was freezing.

He shook his head. "I'm not leaving. You're running at one hundred three." Lines creased the corner of his eye - he was more worried than he let on. "Can I get you anything, sweetheart?" He dumped a couple pills into his hand and helped her sit up to take them with a glass of water.

She shook her head and curled her arms up against her chest when goosebumps skittered down her body.

His lips pressed together as he took in her shivers and tucked her in again.

* * *

The fever was exhausting and she did little more than sleep and take soup that he forced at her. The winter storm continued to rage, and the poor man was pacing every time she woke up. It was a miserable three days as the flu-like symptoms grew worse and her joints became achy. And the fever wouldn't relent.

"Perhaps it's the flu," Alisa whispered in the doorway on the evening of the third night.

"This isn't the flu. I don't know what it is, but the joints of her hands and knees are swelling," he whispered, apparently thinking she was still asleep. "I put her on a wide-spectrum antibiotic just in case...I've checked her for everything I can think of without having proper equipment." Stress cracked his voice. "Maybe it's Lymes and damaging her heart. I'm a cardiologist, not a primary care physician or - " The hysteria began to rise in his voice.

"Easy, lad. She be a strong, young lass. Tonight t' storm is due ta end. Tomorrow we dig out an' get her ta t' hospital," John promised.

"Thank you." The door shut and Jason walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning his hands on his elbows. Then he ran his hands over his face.

She set a hand on his leg.

He straightened immediately and pasted on a smile. "How are you feeling, princess?"

"I'll be alright."

He looked away and got out the thermometer. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I didn't need to hear it. I see the stress in your face."

He took her temp and gave a nearly silent sigh of disappointment. "I don't know how you're tolerating this fever for so long."

"Jay. Stop being a doctor and just be my husband." The energy drained away after so much talking.

Without a word, he climbed in bed. And held tight like there wouldn't be many more chances.

* * *

The bright morning sun beat down behind her eyelids. Her throat didn't hurt quite as much. Jason still slept holding onto her. He'd kicked off his side of the blankets and his white shirt was a bit damp from where he was in contact with her hot body. She scooted over an inch so he wouldn't overheat.

He shot upright and grabbed her arm. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing - "

His eye narrowed and brow furrowed. He touched her cheeks. Then he whipped down the blankets.

An odd, red rash covered splotches of her body.

"Oh god, why didn't I think of it?" He snatched his cell phone off the nightstand behind him. "I've never seen it in an adult, but Fifths Disease hit one of the units in the Foundation a couple years ago."

Her eyebrows rose. "I have a disease?"

He typed quickly into his phone. "A virus. The rash looks a little different than what I've seen. Let me send a picture to a pediatrician at the Foundation." Without missing a beat, he took a picture of her arm on the blankets.

Almost hysterical relief seemed to fill him, as if some miracle had lifted a death sentence from her. He clasped the phone and stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. The phone chirped. His chest heaved and he smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "It's Fifths. He said you should start feeling better now that the rash appeared." He dropped the phone on the bed and felt her forehead. A deep shadow stained under his eye, a heavy five o'clock shadow covered his jaw and upper lip, and his clothes looked like they'd never seen an iron.

"When did you fall asleep last night?"

He grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand. "Six, seven this morning. I dunno."

The cold thermometer swiped over her forehead. The clock read eight. "You need to sleep...what are you doing?"

"One hundred point eight," he muttered and typed into his cell. "I downloaded an app to track your temp and symptoms 'cause I can't remember." Then he scratched his forehead a little too fast like a madman and mumbled to himself, his language slipping into uncharacteristic slang.

"Jason, you need to sleep. You look a bit crazed. Every time I've woken up the past few days, you're awake."

He stared at her with a blank look. Then he stood and scooped her up.

"What are you doing?"

With a confused look, he stilled. "You said you need the washroom."

She cracked a smile. "No. I said you need to sleep. You're a bit loopy, Jay."

"No, I need to watch your fever." He eased her back in bed.

"Lie down with me." She held out a hand. Perhaps he'd fall asleep if he laid down.

But he caught her hand and lightly ran his fingers over her swollen joints. "Does it hurt?" His brow furrowed.

"Aches. Come lie with me." The swelling made it impossible to grab his hand tight without discomfort.

He laid down. "For a moment so you can sleep." He pulled her close to rest her head on his shoulder. Not even a second passed before his soft snores filled the room.

With a smile, she closed her eyes and slept with him.

* * *

The afternoon sun shined through the window. Jason stilled snored soft and slow, the rhythm so comforting. The room felt like an oven and she alternated between chills and sweats as the fever broke. Nature called, though, so she extracted out of his arms, pulled on her nightgown, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The room dipped for a moment and then leveled out. She stood and intense pressure compressed under her kneecaps from the swelling, eliciting a soft gasp of discomfort and an immediate drop back onto the bed. Jason slept through it. Another try and some shuffling, and she made it into the bathroom.

Shutting the door, she turned. Something in the mirror caught her eye. "Oh god. Noooo." The groan of despair dragged out of her throat. A bright red, blotchy rash covered her cheeks and forehead. Pulling out the neck of her nightgown, she looked inside. "Are you serious?! Come on!" It was worse underneath. During the honeymoon.

Someone knocked. "Em, are you alright?" Sleepiness slurred his words.

She dropped her collar. "Yeah. Go back to sleep," she called and held her breath. Heavy footsteps faded away. Maybe a shower would help. Heavens knew it'd been a few days since she'd seen a tub too. She turned on the shower.

"Emma! Don't shower or you'll drive up your fever," he barked through the door.

With a deep sigh, she shut it off. Fifteen minutes sooner and she might've squeaked by with a wash.

* * *

The fever had broken last night. Jason had been so sweet about her embarrassment over the rash, claiming he'd been able to see her beauty under the black eyes from the car accident when they'd met so a little extra pink coloring was quite unnoticeable. She flushed remembering that he'd said it looked like she was constantly blushing and suited his pride well. The man could be an incouragable rake.

She turned on the shower while he still slept in the midmorning, letting the warm water rain down. Clean. Who knew that a shower could be so wonderful. Even the suds running down her back from washing her hair were a guilty pleasure. A bar of soap and a razor and it felt like having a new body. She sighed in bliss, enjoying one last minute before getting out.

A sound came from the other side of the curtain. She peeked out just as he stripped off his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Joining you." A rakish smile touched his lips and he glanced at her.

That look unlocked the butterflies in her belly. When he unzipped his pants, showing no sign of bluffing, she pulled shut the shower curtain and stood under the water. She glanced down. Most of the rash had faded to a soft pink already, no longer looking so awful anywhere but her cheeks. Her heart raced waiting for him to step into the shower, a little nervous and a little excited. He hadn't asked to join but had decided he would. It felt good that he wasn't babying and worrying about frightening her - this must be what normal newlyweds acted like. It felt good to not have Gaston as a third wheel for once. The mask would probably stay on if he didn't get under the water. He seemed embarrassed the other day by the scars on his thighs; maybe he thought it better to get it over with letting her see or maybe he felt more comfortable now.

The lights flipped off, and she tensed for a moment. But he must've opened the bathroom door because dim light filtered in enough to give silhouettes.

The curtain rustled and the outline of a hard body stepped in. "Are you warm enough?"

His voice was enough to make the demons flee. Her heart pounded and cheeks burned with sudden shyness. This was silly - he'd spent the last three days moping the fever from her naked body. There wasn't much he hadn't seen. "Yeah."

He stepped closer and joined her under the water, droplets spraying from colliding with his hard muscles. His hands glided down her shoulders and arms to capture her hands. "Are your joints feeling better? You're still a bit swollen." His voice held a husky quality that made her heart stumble. Then he brought her hands to his lips and offered a light kiss on each palm.

"Y - " She swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Do you want to get out?"

It was his offer to stop if this was too much. "No." The word came out no louder than a whisper.

His hands lowered hers and then his fingertips traveled down her sides. "That doesn't sound like a confident answer."

Her chest rose and fell faster as electricity stemmed from his fingers and shot to the tips of her toes. "Would you rather hear that I want you?" The breath passed her lips a little faster. She rested her hands on his warm chest slick from the water cascading over him.

"Aye." Then he leaned down and crushed her mouth.

No barriers, no mask. The thrill of it sent goosebumps skittering through her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her hand in his hair as he pushed her up against the wall. The contrast of the cold wall on her back and his hot body and the warm water on her front fueled the desire.

"Let me touch you. No sex, no penetration," he panted against her mouth. "I'll stop if you say. Trust me, Emma."

He'd been right - she'd want it one day, and she did. She nodded against his lips.

He captured her hands in his and held them over her head against the wall, lacing his fingers with hers. It would be easy enough to escape, if she wanted. His kiss grew deeper and more passionate. When his other hand captured her breast, she gasped. Passion and electricity and hunger burst in her belly, needing more of him.

"Emma, don't sound like you want me." His chest heaved and he pressed his body against hers. "You're so beautiful." The flat of his palm glided down her belly anew brushed ever so lightly between her legs.

Screams. Pain. Fear. Terror. It all dumped like a bucket of cold water. She gasped and jerked her hands down, forcing her arms between their bodies to get him away.

He stepped back instantly.

Her hand remained splayed on his chest, holding him away as far as possible as her heart pounded a hundred miles a minute. The shot of adrenaline made every muscle quiver, prepared for fight or flight. The soft, rapid heaves of her breathing mingled with the pitter patter of the running shower.

A gentle hand eased hers away from his chest. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hold me back. You're safe." He took her hand.

It was humiliating that the dark and the touch of a man - her husband - could make her like this. But trust was the only way to slay the fear. So she stepped closer.

And he stepped back.

Maybe he thought he was protecting her from herself. "Jay?" But he dropped her hand.

She swallowed hard in self-consciousness and slipped out behind the shower curtain without a word.

She sat on the floor before the fire in her towel and curled her knees to her chest. The shower water still ran in the bathroom. Jason was probably frustrated with her to no end.

The lapping and crackling flames were mesmerizing in the gold and orange hues. And red - red like the blood that had been everywhere that one night. Her hand absently drifted to the hideous scar on her thigh. The screams grew louder, closer.

 _A hard kick and it bought enough time. Scrambling onto her hands and knees. "No! Help!" The front door a few feet away. "Help! He's attacking me!" The screams ripped out with violence like a white-hot branding iron burning in her throat. Heart slammed. Hands shook. Reach for the door. Hope flickered._

 _Large fingers around her ankle. Dragging back. "Noooo! Nooooo!" The door moved farther away. Painful scratch of rug burn as her shirt dragged up. Kick. Fight Gaston. He flipped her. Tears streamed. "Stop! N -"_

 _Fist slamming. Everything black. Blinking through the fog. Fear and panic faded for a blissful moment. Pants tugged down her legs. The room swam. Something was wrong. There was something she'd been running from. A touch against bare leg. A spark of clarity. Fear. Panic. Her legs were bare. And so were his. Oh god, no. Hands pinned overhead. "Noooo!" She bucked. A flash of metal. A scream. Pain of a muscle severed in half, rendering one leg almost useless._

 _A sickening laugh. He grabbed her hips. "Emma - "_

"Emma," a male voice cut in just inches away.

She screamed and jumped back.

Jason sat before her with a look of concern. "It's just me." He wore jeans and a sweater and scooted back a bit himself to give more space.

She closed her eyes and held a hand over her racing heart. "You scared me." Silence. Opening her eyes, she got up and walked over to the suitcase to get out clothes. His silence spoke volumes as to his concern.

"Emma - "

Holding up a hand without turning around, she shook her head. "Don't."

"Don't, what? We need to talk about this."

"Okay, we'll talk. You married a messed up woman who is also denying you sex on the honeymoon - "

A slight rustling broke the silence, as if he stood up. His voice was filled with irritation and a hint of anger. "I did not say such a thing, and don't put words in my mouth. I don't think you're messed up, and I could give a shit about sex on the honeymoon."

She snorted.

"Goddammit, would you look at me instead of shutting me out?" His rapid footsteps crossed the hardwood floor. Any other time he probably would've set a hand on her arm to coax her, but he didn't touch.

She whirled around, a haze of red on the edges of her vision. "What difference does it make?! He fucked me like an animal, and you can't deal with it any better than I can!"

The moment the words left her mouth, rage flashed in his eye. His nostril flared and his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest began to heave in anger. But he remained silent, either gauging his words first or too angry to trust himself to speak yet.

"Talks aren't going to make any difference!" Anger bubbled to a rolling boil. Gaston had ruined her and now was ruining them. "Just do it!" She shoved on his chest, making him take a step back. Tears blurred everything. "You're so damn afraid of scaring me!" She shoved on his chest again. Some corner of her mind snapped, needing his temper to unleash. Every man had a dark side if pushed hard enough. It was better to take it when ready. "He rutted me until I bled!" The rage built in Jason's eyes, as if on the edge of losing control. "Just do it!" She reached to shove him

His temper unleashed and he grabbed her wrists, trapping them between them against her chest. His eye pierced and his hot breath heaved over her face with rage.

She turned up her face to him and glared, daring him even though her body shook from being so worked up. Or maybe a little scared. "You're not man enough?"

Anger vibrated from every fiber of him and he growled, "No, I'm man enough to have you practically naked and be so damn aroused it hurts, but not touch you. Being a man means not hurting you." Then he stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door.

Standing there all alone in the room, rationale thought returned. It had felt safer to turn the panic into anger. She'd hurt him from it, and owed him an apology. So, she got dressed and went downstairs.

He sat in a chair in the empty kitchen and pulled on his snowboots.

"Jason?"

The man didn't even look as he stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of a chair. "I'm going for a walk." His words came out clipped and short. "I'm so pissed I can't stand it." He jerked his arms into the sleeves.

She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, ashamed of what she'd said, of what she'd accused him of being capable of. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I don't know if I'm more ticked over what you insinuated or talking about that shit-faced moron. I should've slit his goddamn throat when I had the chance." He walked out the back door and slammed it. Only this door had glass that couldn't withstand his temper and shattered all over the floor. Jason's angry curse carried through the broken window. He whipped open the door and looked down at the glass shards glittering all over. He slammed the back of his fist against the wall in frustration. And the pans hanging on that wall clattered to the floor. "God bless it!" he barked.

Biting back a smile, she shooed him out. "Go take a trip to the hardware store. Alisa and I will clean this up."

He glanced at her from beneath an angry brow. "Don't cut yourself. She and John are gone for the day. Love you."

"I love you too." She bit her lip in self-consciousness when he just stood there with his hand on the doorknob.

Instead of walking out the door, he strode across the glass without breaking eye contact. The shards crunched under his boots and he grabbed her in one swift move, lifting her onto his hips.

Holding onto his shoulders, she searched his face.

His voice fell to a low intimate pitch. "Do not insult me again by saying I would force you."

Her eyes fell in shame.

The tips of his fingers lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "The dark and touching were probably too much. I know you were scared and instead of letting it out, you lashed out. Talk about him if you need to, but don't do it to push my buttons. No matter how angry I get, I'm not going to hurt you."

She looked away.

"You don't believe me, or you wanted to push me to the edge to see if I'd snap?"

"I don't know why, but it's just growing into a bigger and bigger monster." Her voice carried so small and timid. "I get scared of you when things start getting physical."

"If you were scared of me, you wouldn't want me around you at all when you're scared. You're scared of sex, Emma. There's a difference. You were taught that it's frightening and painful. I can't make the first time enjoyable simply because you're going to be scared. What I can do is show you it's safe and doesn't hurt. The second time will be a little better. Eventually, you'll find pleasure when we make love."

She stared at his coat. "I'm sorry - "

He bent his head down to catch her eye. "Don't you apologize. There is nothing wrong with needing time. We need to put this all on hold for a bit and take a break. Let's go to the store and find a new piece of glass."

Her eyes met his. "Thank you, Jason."

"For what?"

"For being so patient and forgiving. Many men would've walked out."

"The idiots would've." He took a step and set her down away from the glass. "You're worth it, Em. Come. We've been cooped up in the house for several days, and you're just getting well. The store is close enough that we can walk and it's warm enough outside that you won't catch ill again. Go get ready while I board the window."

She cocked her head. "How do you know where the store is? We couldn't see a thing on the way here."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "I grew up down the road. When I was about six years old, I'd wander over to this house and follow John around as he did chores."

"You did? John doesn't seem to know you." She frowned when he remained silent. "It was so long ago that he doesn't recognize you. Or with the mask."

"Let's go, lass." He swung her over his shoulder and headed for the closet to get her coat, giving her bottom a playful swat. Clearly he wanted a distraction to avoid talking about it.

* * *

"Over there." Jason pointed to a small shack overgrown with brush and trees. The roof had rotted and caved in years ago.

It was hard to keep a neutral expression. The house was as big as her bathroom at home.

He chuckled and took her gloved hand to pull her along through the ankle-deep snow. "Shocking, isn't it? It seemed small when I was a child, but seeing it now..." He shook his head.

She let him drag her along. "Is it the first time you've seen it since you emmigrated?"

"Yes, and I don't care to look at it a moment more. Everything is different, good riddance." A tint of bitterness wove through his voice.

How sad it must be to return to his home country and see his childhood house in ruins. "I'm sorry it's fallen apart."

"I'm not," he snorted. "It was a hell hole with probably fifty health code violations." The bitterness grew into distain.

She frowned. "Do you have any happy memories here?"

He sighed and glanced at her. "Few and far between. Home was where I was cold and hungry and on my own when my mother was at work fifteen hours a day. Da spent the days drinking away the money she earned and being unconscious at pubs."

Horror made her speechless for a moment. "Your dad left you home alone all day? How little were you?"

"The earliest I remember is my fourth birthday. And that is only because I remember begging my mother to stay and play. She'd made me a soldier out of sticks for my birthday - a hideous, dirty thing but I loved it because I didn't really have toys. When she left, my father built a fire to keep me warm, throwing in my soldier because he couldn't find much kindling in the woods. Then he left for the day at the pub." He shrugged. "But I was lucky - my parents never raised a hand to me."

Tears stung her eyes. "That's horrible." He'd been poorer than a church mouse...and a neglected child too. That must be why he was so devoted to the Foundation - because he knew what it was like to not really have parents. She wrapped an arm around his waist. "You're going to be a good dad."

He heaved a deep sigh and raised his eyebrow. "I hope so. I have no idea what a father is supposed to do or say." Then he pulled her closer under his arm. "I'll likely be taking cues from you."

"The children at the Foundation seem to adore you, and you're very good with them. And don't argue that it's because you only see them on occasion. If you can be that good with ill and dying children, you'll know what to do when your own kids come along."

A wrinkle marred his strong brow and it didn't take a detective to know he was worried about the children having a father who wore a mask. The man had been under far too much stress this week. She scooped up a handful of snow without missing a step and walloped him in the chest.

He blinked and stopped in his tracks, looking down at the white bullet on his parka in confusion. Then he looked at her with a furrowed brow as she scampered backwards. "What are you doing?"

She laughed and scooped up more snow. "Nothing." Then she threw another. It burst apart against his shoulder. Her smile faded - he looked...confused. "Come on, you can't tell me that I'm not well enough for a snowball fight."

His brow furrowed. "What's the point in this 'snowball fight?'" He scooped up a handful of snow and seemed a bit perplexed.

Her mouth fell open. "You've never had a snowball fight? You live in Colorado!" She walked over as he tried rolling the snow in his gloves like a dough ball. It crumbled.

"To have fun." She scooped up some more snow and dumped it in his gloved hands. Then she pressed them together. "Pack it into a ball, don't roll it. How did you never play in the snow here? Where did you grow up in the U.S.?"

He frowned...and then had trouble keeping a straight face.

Her mouth fell and eyes popped. "You liar!" She whirled around to run, but he caught her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

"I was the king of snowball fights, lass." He chortled and got down on one knee with her still over his shoulder.

Straining to upright herself to look over her shoulder, she gasped. He was keeping her hostage while he created a pile of snowballs. "Cheater! You can't do that!" Wiggling proved to be fruitless in his tight grip.

He laughed and set her down. "Fine. You can steal some. One...three!" He swiped a bunch of them and darted away, leaving only four behind.

She snatched them up and whipped the snowballs at him that he easily dodged. "No wonder why you were an only child, brat!" With a laugh, she scooped up more snow and ran a few feet away, dodging the raining fire.

"Ah, Em, you're too gullible!" He chuckled across the several meter gap and refilled his ammunition twice as fast as her.

"No!" She squealed and worked faster. "That's not fair!"

He grinned and scooped up an armfull of snowballs. "Remember you wanted to take on a SEAL, sweetheart. I learned how to reload fast. I'll give you three seconds being a civilian...I mean, a girl."

She gasped in a huge breath of offense and snatched up her ammunition. "Oh, now that's war."

A twinkle filled his eye and he let loose. The man obviously held back on the force of his throws, but she let them rip. He didn't seem deterred one bit as she hit with complete accuracy while he continued to advance. Scooping the snowballs and throwing them faster and faster didn't stop him from approaching either. Trouble filled his eye. An arm darted out and she screeched in surprise as he caught her and took her down with him. She landed on his chest, and he didn't move as the laughter bubbled out.

"Ah, Em. This is good." He wrapped one arm around her and sprawled his other out as he laid on his back in the snow.

Propping her chin on her hands, she studied him. The strain had left his face. His cheek glowed a soft pink from the nip of the cold and the exercise. The sunlight glistened off his black hair and captured the thickness of his eyelashes. He closed his eye for a moment and seemed so at peace. "I think you're beautiful, Jay." The soft tones of her voice flowed with the peaceful silence.

His eye opened and he started to get up, a curtain falling over his face and masking his emotions.

But she pressed her weight down on his chest to keep him in place. "Hey." Tilting her head, she caught his eye as he stilled. "Why am I not allowed to say that?" She pulled off a glove and brushed a melted drop of snow from his cheek.

"I never said you aren't allowed to say anything." His reply came coarse and clipped and impatient. Then he heaved himself up and eased her off of him as he got to his feet. When he offered a hand down to her, she took it.

She stood but didn't release him. Raising her chin, she held his cold gaze. "You don't have to agree, you just have to know I think so. A rose has no eyes, Jay."

The man bristled. "You heard my conversation with Ms. Van Hoodie that night. That was not for your ears."

But she caught his arm when he started to walk away. "Why not?

He glowered, heartbreak hardening his features and voice. "Ms. Van Hoodie romanticizes that - " Pressing his lips together, he cut off his own words.

"That what? A woman will see your face and not see this hideous monster that you think you are? It's scar tissue, Jason!" She threw up her arms. Then it suddenly made sense. "You didn't stop in the shower because you were worried I'd spook. You stopped because _you_ did."

"We're not discussing this." He spun on his heel and continued through the snow.

She trotted after him. "Fine. We'll discuss it when we get back."

"No." He kept his eye forward.

So she walked backwards in front of him. The stubborn man kept his gaze over her head. "You're so damn stubborn."

"Says the woman walking backwards," he grunted.

A light smile tugged at her lips that even in a temper he could have a sense of humor. "You're cranky today. Maybe you're getting Fifths."

He threw a dry look that said he wasn't amused.

So she stopped walking, forcing him to stop or run her over. Then she wrapped her arms around him. "You need a hug."

"You were a lot easier to handle when you were ill." But he hugged tight all the same and seemed to relax more when she kept the rest of the trip to the store lighthearted.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! Posting this quick before work, so no time for callouts. The previous chapter was to set up Jason and Emma relaxing their fears play off each other, and someone has to be the first one to take the leap for them to grow. There's a purpose for these chapters and them struggling with "moving forward" because it sets things up for later. What they're going through now has a big impact on what's to come.**

* * *

She sat back in the chair at the kitchen table and crossed her legs, swinging one foot. Jason finished replacing the window. "You'd better hurry if you don't want to get caught by John. Did you learn these handyman things from John?"

He put John's tools back in the toolbox. "I'll tell him I had to replace it. I was too young to really understand what he was doing. No money and an old mansion, and you learn how to be handy."

Cocking her head, she smiled. "Self-taught handyman. I'm surprised you have all your fingers."

He chuckled. "I am too. Stevens is actually quite handy with plumbing. I had worked my way up to the second floor of the house by the time he came. When I made the bathroom flood, he showed me a few tricks." Then he hefted up the toolbox. "I'll go put this back in the shed. Are you hungry for dinner yet? Alisa left some food in the refrigerator."

"No, I'm still full from our lunch." She stood up and glanced at the clock. A few minutes after six. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head and opened the door. "I'll be right back."

When he returned a minute later, he stomped off his boots and rubbed his hands together. "The temp is dropping fast out there."

Stepping over, she rubbed his cold hands between hers and pulled him closer to the potbelly stove. "You should've put on your coat to go out there." She glanced up when he didn't respond.

He uncharacteristically shifted on his feet. "Emma..." Drawing a deep breath, he pressed his lips together and seemed to contemplate his words. "Here, come upstairs so we can talk in private. I don't know what time Alisa and John will be home." Taking her hand, he led the way upstairs.

"Is everything okay?" This wasn't like him to seem nervous. Her heart pounded and stomach churned from the serious look on his face.

"Yes, we just need to talk." He let her in the room first and then closed the door before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat on her right and turned to face her without touching.

"Jay, you're making me nervous." She set a hand over his in his lap.

"Don't be. I'm trying to figure out how to say this to not make you nervous." He clasped his hand in both of hers. Closing his eye for a moment, he grimaced and continued, "I'm going to just say it." Then he looked directly at her. "I don't want any answer for at least twenty-four hours so you have time to think about it. This isn't trying to pressure you."

"Jason, just say it. I don't know what you're talking about." She scooted closer and held his hand tighter.

The corner of his eye crinkled in concern. "I thought that waiting to consummate would be best. You've had a nightmare and a flashback in the few days we've been married. I'm worried about what you said that it feels like the monster is growing. I don't know if getting the first time over with would help allay your fears. It wouldn't have to be full sex or any more than a few seconds - just enough so you know it's not going to hurt." He closed his eye, as if ill at the thought.

"Why do you look like that?" Her heart raced. Perhaps he was disgusted to have to take what Gaston had left...

"Because I sound like an ass pressuring you for sex." He opened his eye and searched her face. "I don't want an answer tonight, and I'll wear pajamas to bed tonight so you aren't nervous - "

"Jay." She dropped her eyes to his hand because her cheeks burned so hot. "I don't think you're being an ass. It's a sweet offer, but I don't want our first time to be about him. I don't know what the answer is, but I don't want you to have to be so careful and calculated with everything. I want us to be like a normal couple, but I don't know how to get there." She lifted her eyes to him.

He cradled her cheek in his warm palm. "I've been searching online and talked to a psychologist because I don't know how to do this either. I want to whisk you to the bedroom and romance you so forget all about him. I love you, Emma. I don't know how to make you believe that I don't see anything but a strong, beautiful woman when I look at you."

Her heart pounded hard. He would be gentle. It would be safe. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips before there was time for the panic to take hold.

But he pulled back with a wide eye. "Emma, that wasn't to coax you - "

"I know. Jason, just be my husband. Stop trying to analyze every single move. I'm tired of being scared. Show me you're safe. Just not in the dark."

He brushed a kiss on her forehead and then got up to start a fire.

She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself while he got the flames going. When he turned, he stilled and seemed to take in her tense posture. She dropped her arms and swallowed down her stomach. The butterflies flitted like mad and not in a good way.

Instead of coming closer, he kept the distance. His chest rose and fell a bit faster, and his gaze dropped to the floor. Then he peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside. The golden firelight cast a warm glow throughout the room, but he stood a bit in front of it. The light painted him in a soft silhouette.

His chest heaved, as if he was nervous. He unbuttoned his pants and hesitated a moment before removing the rest of his clothes. Then he turned, ever so slow, and took a step back. His throat convulsed hard, and he kept his gaze downcast. His poor heart visibly thumped in his chest.

Her heart stopped, finally understanding some of his fears. The golden light should've cast a beautiful, romantic glow over a perfect specimen of a man. But long, raised scars ran from his hip to groin on each side - the scars he'd once mentioned from donor tissue for his burns. Even in the poor light, his thighs were mottled with purplish-pink scarring where skin had been shaved off. The burn victim literature she'd researched months ago had said the tool was literally like a cheese slicer, only it shaved off layers of flesh. And because his skin seemed to overheal, the scars were thick, uneven, and shiny. Bile rose up over the pain and barbarianism of him being skinned alive. What they had done to him left the area almost foreign looking. THe light had been so poor at her apartment the night she'd accidentally pulled his towel off that none of this had been visible...or her eyes had been distracted.

"You should have an idea of what touches you." His voice came out hollow and weak, as if fighting to not shut down and run. And then he turned.

She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop the sob. His backside wasn't so bad, but the backs of his thighs almost looked like full burns. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

He turned back around. That gentle blue eye remained locked on the floor in humiliation. "One of the surgeons was not a man of good science, and he went too deep with the donor tissue. My face is like white groundup meat - what you have felt is better than it looks." His gaze finally rose to hers, with tears glistening in his eye. "They have not seen all of this, and they call me a beast. This is what you would have to endure touching you the next fifty years."

Her heart shattered apart yet swelled with so much love for this beautiful man. He had stripped himself naked in every sense and made himself so vulnerable. The humiliation and fear filled his eye. At her feet he had lain the sword that she could plunge into his heart and destroy him. Yesterday he had thrown up impenetrable walls, and now he seemed to regret it.

In two rapid strides, she crossed the distance. Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his. Her tongue pressed past his lips and caressed, not holding back any drop of love. He had done this for her. Her own courage soared. He had sacrificed his cloak of darkness to give her light. She desired to know the love of this wonderful man.

But he pulled back with a wide-eyed look of shock. "What are you doing?"

"We do this together, Jason." She held his nervous gaze and ran the back of her fingers down his smooth cheek. "I love you. Don't look so scared that I'm going to leave."

He drew a shakey breath and set his hands on her hips. "This is all I can offer."

Revealing his face would push him over the edge, at least right now. He'd taken an unexpected leap and it was enough. In time he'd come to realize how deeply he was loved. Tonight he'd taken down nearly all his walls. Tonight he'd opened up so much. "I love you, Jay."

"I love you." But he seemed hesitant to make any sort of advancement.

His fear brought out her courage. She pulled off her sweater, her heart picking up speed.

"Emma." His hands caught hers and worry knit his brow. "You don't have to do this. You deserved to know what you were getting into. I didn't do this to make you feel as if now you owe - "

"I know." She looked into his eye. "I don't want us to have these walls anymore."

Worry filled his eye. "At any time, you say to stop if you want to. You have control at all times. Remember that, Emma." Then he released her hands.

She bit her lip and drew strength from his gaze as she pulled off her jeans. He did not touch or break eye contact, allowing every action to be her decision at her pace. But the moment the last undergarment came off, a wave of shame washed down and she wrapped her arms over her chest. She couldn't look him in the eye. "You've already seen. I don't know know why I'm nervous," she whispered.

Warm hands cupped her face and lifted her gaze. "I looked only at what I needed to after the car accident to make sure you were alright, and this week I only looked for a rash in hopes of diagnosing your illness. You hadn't given me permission, so I didn't look beyond for medical purposes." His voice overflowed with compassion. The fear had left his face, as if concern for her well-being had chased away his own nervousness. He offered his hand. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Emma. You have survived and had the courage to live again. That in itself is beauty."

The irony of his words - that he didn't see it the same way for himself. She swallowed hard and took his hand but still needed to keep somewhat covered with her other arm. "Remember when you asked if I'd been in the hospital before when I had the concussion?" He nodded. "I didn't want to tell you about the surgery."

His eye narrowed and brow furrowed in concern. "What surgery?"

Swallowing hard, she pulled her hand out of his, turning out her leg to touch near the horrid mark that served as a daily reminder.

His eye dropped to her thigh where the firelight illuminated the thick scar as long as a finger. Then his gaze whipped back to hers in confusion.

"When he cut, he completely severed the muscle."

Horror filled that gentle blue eye. "May I?" Such deep wrinkles creased his forehead.

His concern made it less embarrassing and humiliating, so she nodded.

When he knelt, the pads of his fingers grazed the mark ever so gently and his other hand cupped the back of her thigh. "He had to have severed at least the sartorius muscle, making you lose significant function of your knee." He looked up at her.

She swallowed hard and looked away. Sometimes acknowledging with silence was easier than admitting with words.

He cursed and looked at her leg, his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. The rage was palpable. "What does he do for a living?"

It was his way of asking if Gaston had done it with the intention of preventing her escape - without outright making her answer. She swallowed hard. "Taxidermy."

He snorted. "I'll give him a carcass to be stuffed," he growled under his breath.

"He knew," she whispered. "He smiled as the struggle lessened."

The lines of his face contracted, morphing such beauty into grief. A tear glided down the contours of his cheek and splashed onto the wooden floor. The anger fled the room and in its place, love eminated from him. He pressed his lips against the scar in a tender loving kiss.

For the first time, there was another memory to be offered when she looked down at the scar - the memory of love and acceptance and peace. Tears welled and spilled over.

He stood and cupped her face, taking away the tears with the stroke of his thumbs. His voice grew thick with emotion as he searched her eyes. "You are beautiful and perfect. Do not hide your body from me. I will never do anything _to_ you in the bedroom, only _with_ you, Emma. Any touch will be with love and your consent."

She nodded and held his wrists, nervous and unsure. His strength was a comfort that seemed to grow simply because she needed him. "I - " Her voice quivered. Holding his wrists tighter and drawing a deep breath, she steadied her voice. "I'm late enough in the month that I can't get pregnant."

"I can go to the drugstore for condoms. I didn't expect we'd do anything on the honeymoon, so I didn't pack any."

She shook her head. "I have pains in the middle of my cycle, and that was before the wedding."

"I'm not going to...and it will only be for a few seconds to show you it won't hurt. So, the risk of pregnancy will be very minimal, but there is always a chance. Are you certain you're alright with that?"

She nodded and swallowed down her thundering heart. "Don...don't be on top of me."

He lifted her shaking hands to his lips. "I won't, sweetheart. I'll tell you before I touch, and we'll go slow to make sure you won't hurt." He brushed a kiss over her lips and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

She tensed and rested her hands against his chest as he stepped closer. Maybe the doctor was wrong and there would be too much scarring. Staring at the fire, her mind began to run. A kiss brushed her neck. He was a large man - maybe this wouldn't work. Another kiss on her jaw. The pain wouldn't be anything like what Gaston had done, but any level of pain would trigger a memory. Perhaps it'd trigger a flashback and a panic attack.

"Emma."

She blinked and looked up at him watching.

"You're so tense and a thousand miles away." His brow furrowed and he stroked her cheek. "We don't have to do this."

"I know I shouldn't because it's supposed to be romantic and special...but I just want the first time over with."

If heartbreak could be in a single expression, it was in his face. "I wish I knew how to make this perfect for you, Emma." He wrapped his arms around in an embrace and kissed her brow.

There were too many demons in her head to let this be romantic like it should be. "I'm sorry." This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He didn't deserve for this to be the honeymoon memory. Tears pricked behind her eyes.

"There is nothing to be sorry for." He cradled her head on his shoulder. "It's too soon, Emma. You're going to be nervous, but you shouldn't be this scared. It _will_ hurt if we continue when you're this frightened. Shhhh, it's alright," he cooed when the tears flowed down her cheeks.

He held her for a long time as she wept. And not for one moment did he seem resentful that he had torn down his walls but she'd been unable to lower hers.

* * *

She woke up early the next morning before there was much glow from the sunrise. The fire had banked itself hours ago. Jason laid on his back with his face turned away to the right. He wore no mask.

His cell phone on the nightstand beeped the alarm for him to wake up and put on the mask before daylight. She leaned across and turned it off. The poor man must've stayed up fretting last night after he'd fed and tucked her in after her meltdown.

Lying down beside him, last night seemed like a bad dream. He'd been so patient and understanding. And he had gently rejected when she'd tried to force herself to try again last night. Everything looked better in the morning, Nana always said. Those words never rang truer.

Perhaps it was the meltdown and getting the anxiety out, or perhaps it was the unexpected turn of him opening up so much last night that made the monsters seem so small in daylight. The fear was still there, but the love was so much stronger.

She sat up and slipped a leg over him to straddle his hips. Then she leaned down on his bare chest and kissed his jaw. "Jay? Your alarm went off," she whispered.

A soft grunt and he seemed to fall back asleep.

She smiled and sat up to take in his peaceful expression. This way felt so right - no pressure of him expecting sex and her not being trapped under a man. His body began to wake up, so he wouldn't be far behind. She stroked a hand down his chest. "Jay."

His eye fluttered open and he covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. Then he stilled when his hand brushed her knee near his chest. "Emma?" Sleep wove through his voice.

"Your alarm went off." The dimness in the room made it seem intimate and safe, but light was filtering in fast.

"Did it wake you?" He reached over on the nightstand and slipped on the mask while she looked away.

"No." She bit her lip and leaned her hands on his hard abs to scoot back onto his thighs a bit. Her fingers glided down his hips and stilled. His desire grew but he made no move to act on it. Her eyes lifted to him, never having seen a man this close - the flesh that had been so abusive with Gaston didn't appear to be as relentless with Jason.

"You don't have to be afraid. I promised my body to you, Emma. If it makes you less afraid..." He guided her hand down to him.

He was far less threatening than imagined. Perhaps he was telling the truth that he wouldn't bring pain. She cocked her head and met his gaze. "You're smooth. He hurt so much."

"Because he forced you when you weren't ready." He rubbed her hip in comfort. "It should never hurt, Emma."

"You've never been with a woman to know that." She bit her lip.

Reaching up, he freed her abused lip and ran his thumb over it. "Would women say they enjoyed sex if it caused pain?"

"Women have multiple children but endure childbirth repeatedly," she countered.

With a deep sigh, he pursed his lips, obviously thinking of how to argue his point.

Getting it over with would be the only way to know. She raised up and guided him.

"No!" He clamped his hands on her hips and plopped her on the bed beside him. "You can't just shove. You'll hurt yourself, for crying out loud." Rolling onto his side, kissed her.

The world faded away and she rolled onto her side to be closer to him. Passion that had been there months ago returned until her heart thundered in desire. His hand slipped down and waited for her to refuse. Only, he had her body humming. Somehow he'd made the fear fade into near silence. And then his gentle touch continued and did something that made fireworks explode.

Her chest heaved and body trembled in the after effects. She braced her hands on his chest as he rolled onto his back and pulled her along with him. Blinking hard to clear the fireworks, she opened her eyes.

A gaze of such tremendous love looked back at her. His chest rose and fell with restrained passion. "Now you're ready."

She leaned her hands on his chest, and he held her hips to help hold her weight as she slowly joined his body. And there was no pain.

* * *

Sitting adjacent to Jason at the kitchen table during breakfast, she studied her husband through new eyes. He carried on conversation with Alisa and John as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened just minutes ago in the bedroom.

He had ended the brief consummation after a few seconds but before he'd even found release. It had been so simple and brief that it left her curious. The man had probably intended it that way, ensuring nothing unpleasant could've happened so the fear would die on its own. But he'd also left a sense of restlessness, but he seemed completely at peace. Technically the marriage had been consummated, but that wasn't how she'd envisioned a wedding night before Gaston had come along. She blinked. Those girlish dreams - it'd been so long that they'd been buried that the memory had been forgotten what it felt like to dream about being "ravished" by a good man. She smiled to herself in embarrassment. The courage wasn't there yet, but a flicker of that girlish dream had returned. That had to be a good sign.

Things were already different since last night - the world didn't seem quite as scary and Jason seemed so much...happier, as if the walls had weighed him down for so many years. The man smiled and laughed more this morning and had slipped his hand in hers under the table at the start of breakfast. During breakfast, the chatterbox had let go to slip his arm across the back of her chair. When she'd finished eating, he'd dropped his arm to wrap around her waist. This wasn't like him to be so publically affectionate and informal.

The energy vibrated off him and was contagious. He seemed so invincible and full of life.

Alisa jumped in when he paused. "What has ye in such a good mood, lad?" A smile split her face.

Quite curious herself, she turned a bit in her seat.

A soft flush washed over his face and he glanced at the table with a shy smile. "A wife is a wonderful thing - to have someone to show your darkest secrets and still be loved..." His gaze shifted to her, and she swallowed hard at the raw emotion in his eye. "I always thought that someone you could find Heaven with was the greatest blessing. But I've learned that someone who will walk through Hell with you is a greater gift." Then he leaned over and brushed a kiss over her lips.

"Aye, even after forty years, a lass is a blessin'," John agreed and leaned over and planted a kiss on Alisa's cheek. The woman giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Excuse us." He carried over her dishes and loaded them in the dishwasher before coming back and taking her hand.

She glanced at Alisa and John, who had knowing smiles as Jason pulled her toward the stairs. At the top of the stairwell and out of earshot, she scolded, "I'm sure they think you want to ravish me."

He glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "'Ravish' you?" The term seemed to amuse him.

Cocking an eyebrow, she threw him a look as he led her into the bedroom and shut the door.

The grin wouldn't leave his face as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder without a care. "You want me bad, huh?" Then he unzipped his pants.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Says the man stripping down. You're bluffing."

"No, I'm not going to ravish you, although it's a very tempting offer. Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in daylight and lounge in bed with her." Then he kicked off his pants and socks before reaching for her with a smile.

"You didn't even eat breakfast." She didn't protest when he peeled off her clothes.

A rich chuckle filled the air. "I have no desire to eat. I simply wish to admire your beauty."

"What has gotten into you. Yesterday you barely let me see you in firelight."

"I'm high on love." He laid her down on the bed and sat on the edge, his eye drinking in every curve.

Heat rose in her cheeks, but she refrained from pulling up the sheets. Love and honest admiration reflected in his eye, easing some of the self-consciousness. One fingertip trailed down her lips and neck, between her breasts and along her leg to her toes, electrifying the air with sexual tension.

"If I had my way, I'd cover you in gems that might almost match your beauty." His voice dropped to a low, husky baritone that sent shivers down her spine. His finger trailed back up her body.

"You are a romantic." There was nothing extraordinary about her looks.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I find rare antiques around the world and sell them for millions. I recognize rare beauty." His finger continued to wind a maddening path over her body.

"Even an ugly thing that is old enough will be worth millions." Something about his manner spoke of power and masculinity that made her heart skip a beat.

"Thank heaven you are not old or ugly." He grazed a finger along her brow and outer edge of her eye. "Your eyes are slightly large and very expressive, offering an eroticness about you. Your nose is straight but not too straight." His finger traced her mouth and nose and then along her cheek. "Your lips are full and make a man long to kiss them. Your jaw is narrow, offering a very feminine, delicate appearance." Then his hand glided down her arm. "Your bone structure is graceful and small." That blue eye flicked to hers. "I've seen men look at you the way I do." He held her eyes. "Our marriage is technically consummated now. As such, there is no reason for you to be self-conscious about me seeing your body anymore. If I am brave enough to let you see me, you can do it too. I will not ask you for sex, but I ask for the opportunity to admire you in the bedroom. I won't touch, if that's your desire."

She nibbled her lip. "So, you're saying you want me naked when I'm in the bedroom?"

"No because that would make you uncomfortable, and the bedroom should be a sanctuary. I will always ask, but to sometimes admire you in the bath or getting dressed. You're my wife, and I'd simply like to enjoy your beauty."

Her brow knit in contemplation. "That's a bold request, particularly given the fact how long it took us for that technical consummation."

He gave a single nod. "Aye, but that is why we are discussing it. And you are free to make any requests as well."

The pace of her heartbeat picked up a bit at this unexpected turn of events. "Alright, but you have to ask first. And whatever you ask of me, I can ask of you. But if say 'no,' you do not push."

"Of course. I ask that you do not make any request where you would see my face, though."

She nodded. This was probably some psychology trick that he had read about helping a rape survivor get used to intimacy again. "I agree to try this a few times, but I make no promises after that." In truth, it seemed a bit...kinky and weird.

"Agreed. Alright, let's go. We have just a few days left and a lot of sightseeing to do." He patted her hip and got up and started getting dressed.

She laughed and picked up her clothes. "Then why did you strip me?"

He shrugged and glanced at her face. "I like how intimate and safe it feels to be with you like that." The man continued getting dressed without another look.

Odd that he didn't seem inclined to take advantage of the chance to watch her dress. Even odder was the fact that she wouldn't have minded if he had. She pulled on her things, glancing over at him again as he sat on the bed and pulled on his socks. This had to be some kind of therapy or something - how many rape survivors wished their new husbands followed through on such a request? She shook her head. This man was an enigma.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Some of the lovey-dovey stuff has to end so the story can progress, but I didn't want to cut it off during the honeymoon. The story is farther in than I had anticipated it taking to reach this point, but we established important ground for the climax that is coming. I was going to split the story into 4 sequels, but that might be overkill if people don't mind story 3 being long. :)**

* * *

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Jason wrapped an arm around her waist as they ascended dungeon stairs in the second castle toured that afternoon.

The tour group started getting farther ahead, but the burn of overused muscles didn't make it seem worthwhile to care. Her legs shook. In all, probably ten thousand stairs had been climbed today, not to mention the walking of acres and acres of castle grounds. She grit her teeth and nodded.

"I can carry you. We still have another flight to go." Even in the dark dankness of the circular stone stairwell, concern was visible in his eye.

The damp stairs were too narrow and slippery for him to safely carry even a small child, although the offer was terribly tempting. "No." When he offered a hand, she clasped it in a white-knuckled grip and pushed onward.

* * *

She groaned and rubbed her thighs, leaning her head against his shoulder in the taxi what seemed like hours rather than minutes later. "I think my legs are going to fall off. How are you not sore?"

A soft chuckle and he reached over to give a heavy massage to the abused muscles. "I think the SEALS training probably paid off for climbing those castles today. I'm sure a couple years out of training and I would be in pain doing that too."

Closing her eyes to rest, she blindly whacked the back of her hand against his chest. "Are you saying I'm out of shape?"

"No." His laugh filled the car. "I'm saying I feel terrible that you're sore. We didn't have to tour both castles, sweetheart."

"But we only have a few days left here and lost almost a week being sick. I was doing okay until we got half way through the second castle."

"Did you enjoy it at all?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "They were beautiful and kind of interesting, history nerd." Jason had been able to answer some tourists questions about the castles that the tour guide hadn't known.

A chuckle shook his shoulder.

"Uuuuuuh," she whined as he made her head bounce. "Don't wiggle, I'm falling asleep."

He snorted a laugh. "You're awfully whiney for falling asleep. Here, set your leg in my lap so I can rub it better."

"No. I'm not some damsel in distress." Although, the massage was working out the aches quite nicely. "Okay, fine. You're doing a good job, so you may continue." She flopped the other direction against the door of the cab and plopped a leg in his lap. Silence but the massage continued. She crackled an eye open. The man tried to smother a laugh, so she poked his side.

He yelped in surprise and then tickled behind her knee.

When she shot upright with a squeak and reached to tickle him, he caught her hand and locked lips with hers. It was an unexpected and romantic kiss that stole all coherent thought.

Everything lurched forward. Her purse flew into the front seat. The seatbelt locked painfully hard as her body tried to propel forward. Jason's belt audibly clicked from the force of his weight slamming against it. Metal crunched. Then her head snapped backwards when inerta released. Something warm cushioned the back of her head and kept it from slamming backwards into the seat.

The world stopped for a stunned moment and she blinked. The car wasn't moving. Her eyes flicked to the front window. Steam billowed from the hood of the car that was wrapped around a wooden fence post. A car accident. There didn't appear to be another car involved.

Jason pulled his hand out from behind her head and flexed it once before patting her down. "Are you alright?" Panic filled his voice.

"I'm fine. Are you?" Blood wasn't spewing from him. She caught his hand and turned it over. His knuckles were red in the moonlight, likely from the impact he had taken between her head and the seat.

He nodded and leaned forward to look at the driver. "Are you alright?"

"Aye, but Ah think Ah killed t' car. Ah hit black ice." The middle-aged driver looked a bit shaken and got out.

She followed Jason out to look at the damage. Steam hissed from under the crushed hood and the front tire sat at an angle.

"Well, looks like we're walking." Jason scanned the dark countryside surroundings. A full moon served as the only light source. "We're about a mile from the bed and breakfast?"

"Aye. Ah apologize - "

"It was an accident. There's a pub down the way." He pointed down the hill about half a mile. Then he took her hand and started walking.

He kept up polite conversation with the apologetic cab driver while she focused on breathing through the burning in her thighs that started not far into the jaunt.

In front of the tavern, the driver headed inside to call a tow truck. Jason held her hand and started forward.

"Wait," she panted. "I gotta sit. My legs are burning."

A frown touched his face in the moonlight. "Emma, you should've said. I forgot." He led her over to a stone fence, brushed off the snow, and lifted her up. Then he pulled off his gloves to rub her legs.

"Put your gloves on. It's getting colder out. Can we call John to pick us up?"

"He was going to take Alisa to the movies tonight. The temp is going to drop fast now that it's dark out. Come on, love." He turned and pulled her onto his back piggyback style.

"You can't carry me for a half mile!"

His chuckle filled the air as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I had to carry sixty pounds for miles during training and a hundred pounds in my Middle East days. You're a dainty thing. I can take you for a half mile, Em." He set off at a good clip.

"I'm not dainty!"

His rich laugh cut through the night. "You're right - your looks are misleading. Someone should've told me when I pulled you from that car accident that you're a spitfire." His breathing grew a hint more labored from exertion. "I mean 'dainty' in a good way, sweetheart."

"If you drop from a heart attack, there's no one around and I only know layman's CPR."

"Sweetheart, you aren't getting rid of me that easy. Even so, I'll have a big enough tantrum at having to leave my lovely new wife that neither God nor the Devil will want me." A lightheartedness tinted his tone.

"Ugh, so I get stuck with you?" she teased.

His laugh rang through the darkness. "Oh, you're stuck with me for a long time, babe."

She laughed. "Babe? Did you pick that one up in California?"

He threw a smile over his shoulder. "I did. I've heard men out there say it to their girlfriends. Always wanted to try it, but it doesn't sound as sexy as I thought it would."

"Good because I'm not answering to 'babe.'" A chuckle was his response. "Jay?"

"There must be something wrong with me because that nickname still gets me as much as the first time you said it. My apologies, I interrupted."

Pressing a cheek against his hair to cuddle, she held on tighter. "I like that we play."

He turned his head to smile over his shoulder. "I like it too. Overall, it seems like we have a good balance of seriousness and playfulness."

"Thanks for carrying me."

Another smile flashed over his shoulder. "You're most welcome, love. Are your legs feeling better?"

"They're not cramping as hard."

"I'm sorry, Em. I didn't realize that two castles would have that many stairs."

"It's not your fault. It was fun seeing them. Ooh! You know what we should do?" She swung her feet straight out in excitement.

A big belly laugh came out of him. "It feels like I'm carrying a little child on my back. If we have a daughter as cute as you, I'm in for trouble. What should we do, love?"

"We should go to the Blarney Stone tomorrow!"

"Uhh, I'm not sure how sanitary that is to kiss the same spot fifty thousand others have. Besides, you're literally lying upside down and stretching out over a massive drop to reach it. I don't know that you'd enjoy it."

"Oh." Her legs dropped. "I don't wanna do that."

"I didn't think so," he chuckled.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders and pulled herself up higher from gradually slipping down. "So, my Scot, what do you have planned for tomorrow?"

He bounced her up for a better grip. "Well, my American girl, I thought we can trek north a bit - via car - and see an old chapel and the Northern Lights."

"Ooooh, really?! You can see the lights from here?"

"Aye, a grand view it be too, bonnie lass," he drawled, slipping into a thick accent.

Her cheeks grew warm from his lovely burr. The house drew near already. "Wow, that's good time."

"Yer welcome."

She laughed and swatted his shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Yer right. Ah should be flatterin' me new bride, who be as sweet as a rose."

She'd walked right into that one. "You're an unscrupulous scoundrel at times. You can't use your accent when it suits you." What would be suitable is if he used it _all_ the time.

"How ungentlemanly of me. My apologies," he said, switching into a full American accent. A frown touched her lips the moment he happened to look over his shoulder, and he laughed. "Ah only tease, love."

"I'll get my retribution tonight," she countered in a lofty note.

"Mmm, I look forward to it." He sounded far too eager.

Dammit, she'd walked right into that one too. A few more steps and he slid her down to dig the key out of his pocket.

The man looked good in jeans and moonlight. She smiled to herself as he turned the lock and swung open the door for her. Taking a step in, she kicked off her boots. Maybe it was the full moon that made bold playfulness come out, but when he bent over to untie his boots, she swatted his bottom. "Damn, that's fine." Then she darted out of the kitchen with a giggle.

His hearty laugh followed and so did heavy footsteps as he chased.

With a squeal of surprise, she shot up the first two stairs before an intense cramp tore up her thigh and her leg buckled. The steps pitched closer and her heart shot into her throat.

A strong arm curled around her waist, barely saving her face from kissing the wooden stairs. "Whoa, are you alright?"

Biting her lip in pain, she nodded and rubbed her thigh as he uprighted her. "Cramp."

He scooped her up. "Let's get you in a warm bath. There's another empty guest room with a claw-foot tub that I'm sure Alisa wouldn't mind you using if we clean up afterwards. Let me go scrub it - "

"Oh, no, I'm alright. A hot shower will probably work just as well."

"I want to help you feel better, Em." The earnestness in his tone silenced further protests.

A few minutes later, he carried her to the tub that sat at the foot of the bed in other room. He had filled it with steaming water already, and his phone on the floor played soft music. "Shampoo and soap and a towel are here." He set her down and pointed to a towel on the floor with all of her toiletries and nightclothes arranged on it. "Do you need anything else?"

She smiled at his pampering. "No, I think you have everything. Thank you, Jay. The shower would've been fine."

Brushing a kiss over her lips, he smiled. "I want to take care of my wife. I'm going to shower. Yell if you need me. John and Alisa aren't due back for another couple hours and the house is locked." Then he slipped out the door.

The muscle pain melted away in the steaming water. With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the towel headrest that Jason had made. The aches drifted away. Closing her eyes, the calming instrumental music summoned the sandman.

A soft rap echoed from the door. "Emma?"

Her eyes popped open and she looked around at the toiletries for some kind of modesty. "Um, just a minute!" No bubbles or anything to help cover up.

"That's alright. I'm out of the shower and was checking if you needed anything."

Maybe that was his way of asking to come in. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath of courage and shrank down in the tub a bit, although the water offered no shield. The first step would always be the most self-conscious one, so no sense in delaying the inevitable. "Come in."

He stepped into the room and locked the door, wearing his pajama bottoms, robe and plastic mask. "Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you." Her heart beat faster.

Intimate gentleness filled his eye. "May I stay?" He folded his hands behind his back and waited.

A flush swept up her face and her heart raced with both excitement and uncertainty. Prior to Gaston, this would've been romantic, but a little voice of nervousness whispered. The voice would only be silenced if she stopped making him live in Gaston's shadow. Her gaze dropped to his feet for a moment as she gave a shy nod.

He walked over and sat on the hard floor at the foot of the bed. The fact that he didn't sit on the bed where he could look down into the tub made it less embarrassing, and the distance from the tub made the nerves fizzle away. His gaze was intense and tender, but his eye did not stray from her face. "There's something innately peaceful about a woman in the bath."

The butterflies in her belly fluttered faster, and she lifted a hand out of the water to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and stare down at the water. Not a single thing to say would come to mind.

"Emma?" Compassion and patience filled his voice. "You do know that I do not ask this simply as some perverse means to stare at your body?"

Biting her lip to gather nerve for this frank conversation while in the tub, she met his eye. "At first I thought it was some manner of therapy that you thought would be good for me to get used to you seeing me. My second thought was some kind of fetish." Her cheeks burned.

His head tilted a bit, as if intrigued but not all offended. "And now?"

"Now I think that perhaps because of what people call you, you search out things that you find beautiful, like your roses. You find pleasure and peace in looking at them. I think you find a measure of pleasure in being able to own things that you perceive as beautiful."

A soft smile touched his lips and he gave a single nod. "Although I fully recognize that you are your own person with your own will and mind and do not need my permission to do anything, I do find pleasure in that you are my wife - that you are 'mine' in a sense."

She couldn't hold back a shy smile and let the water run through her fingers. "I like that I am yours. Even in the old days when women were property of their husbands, I do not think that you would've made me resentful of it. So in short, your requests do not upset me, and I know I'm free to deny you if I choose."

He offered a gentle smile. "Good."

"But that doesn't mean I'm still not shy," she added with hot cheeks.

"It will take time, sweetheart." His eye drifted down to the tub for a moment. "And I do find you extraordinarily beautiful."

A shy flush crept up her neck and she diverted her eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

If he thought anything of the hard blush, he didn't comment, bless his heart. "Did you already wash? May I join you?" He moved to stand.

Pressing her lips together and automatically wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her legs closer to her body, she shook her head. Every muscle tensed. It would be too confined with a man.

"That's alright. It's too soon." He offered an encouraging smile and sat back against the footboard.

She released a breath that had apparently been frozen in her chest. The tension dissipated as fast as it'd come. 'Too soon.' Eventually he must plan on joining her in baths too.

"Do you prefer that I leave?" Concern wrinkled his brow.

A tiny part wanted him to go. Mostly, she desired this newfound intimacy with him. "I don't think so." Keeping her eyes on the water, she swallowed down the embarrassment. "You're a bit more...assertive than what I'm used to from you. I think I like it." She picked up the wash rag, a bit too shy to start in front of him.

"I never mean it as aggression, and I hope you'll say if it feels like that."

A soft smile pulled her lips that he already knew the line to not cross with her.

"I was thinking that we could go to the church after lunch and then have dinner somewhere nice before we go see the Northern Lights tomorrow." He picked up his phone and scrolled through the playlist, clearly diverting his eye for her comfort.

She started washing quick while he was distracted. "Dinner?" The man never ate in public, but perhaps he'd consider eating with her in a private room or something.

"A private table and I'll eat later."

"Oh." So much for getting more intimate that way.

He looked up. "That doesn't please you?"

She shook her head. "I was just wondering."

Selecting Moonlight Serenade, he set down the phone and returned his attention to her.

When it was just her back left to scrub, she nibbled her lip for a moment and sat forward, curling her knees to her chest. She swept her damp hair up into a quick topknot and held out the rag to him. It was such a small thing but such a large step.

The man blinked.

"Would you wash my back?" Her pulse thundered. It was a bold, forward request. Perhaps too bold.

"Of course, sweetheart." He slowly took the rag and rolled up his sleeves, neither too eager nor too slow. Then he knelt behind the tub and dipped the rag in.

The warm cloth glided over her shoulders with very slow strokes, as if not to frighten her. Beads of water rolled down in soft caresses. He was careful to not let his fingers touch her skin directly but to keep the rag as a safe barrier. His strokes didn't travel too low, but the long, slow movement of the rag portrayed his desire. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

"You're done," he said, his voice husky. He audibly swallowed hard. Then he got up and held open the towel for her.

She stood and the towel wrapped around from shoulder to hip. Taking the ends from him, she pulled it closed around herself as goosebumps formed in the chilly room.

"My apologies, I didn't think to light a fire in here." He held out his hand to help her step out of the tub.

Tucking the towel around herself tight, she took his warm hand. And grabbed his shoulders when he swept her into his arms.

"I'll take you to our room so you don't chill." His tone left no room for argument. He crossed the room, opened the door, and peeked out. "John?! Are you home?" No answer.

She smiled at his sweetness as he deposited her in the heated room and then left to go clean up. He'd be gone for several minutes, so she draped the towel over the back of a chair and stood before the fire, letting the heat evaporate the beads of water and finish relaxing her muscles. Grabbing a clip out of the suitcase for her hair, she returned to the fire and turned to warm her back while pinning up a loose topknot.

Jason walked in and stopped in his tracks. His throat convulsed hard and desire flared in his eye. Then he seemed to remember himself and closed the door, heading for the bathroom with the soaps and shampoo in his hands. "My apologies, I..." He didn't finish his sentence but disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. It bounced open a bit. That seemed odd and unlike him. She stepped to the side for a better angle to glance in.

He leaned his hands on the bathroom sink and bowed his head, drawing deep breaths.

Perhaps he was coming down ill too. She returned to the heat of the fire and looked around for a nightgown, but it was still in the other room. The bathroom door creaked open and she turned, the concern blocking out all thoughts of needing clothing. "Are you ill, Jay?"

His eye rolled back and he swallowed hard again. "No." He swept right on past for the door. "I need to sleep in the other room tonight." His voice came out a bit strained.

Her stomach dropped. "Did I do something wrong?"

Bowing his head, his hand rested on the doorknob and he stilled. "You did everything right," he whispered.

"I don't understand." She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around for the towel.

"I want you so much that I can't share a bed with you tonight, Emma."

Her eyes flew to him. He stood there with desire burning in his eye. The beating of her heart skipped and heat pooled in her belly. His look may as well have sent her up in smoke. To be desired this strongly after Gaston...it should've been impossible. And yet the charged air crackled. He saw her - not something damaged or broken or pitied, but her.

A young woman's dreams of a real honeymoon rushed back - the romance, the love, the desire. The confident woman who could dream and hope took a breath again, the first in a long time. Hope and courage surged up. He had breathed a single breath of life into that woman who had died years ago. And she clung to that weak breath with every fiber.

"Make love to me - not as a broken woman who is stuck in a world of fear, but as the woman you want to make yours. As your wife. Because this morning, that wasn't making me yours - that was making sure he wouldn't wake up and take me back." She shook her head. The blood roared in her ears and her heart raced as the walls came crashing down. A tear fell from her lashes. Her heart beat with newfound courage that bubbled up. "I don't want him to take me into the darkness anymore - all I have are the memories of fear and pain and screams." Tears welled in his eye at her words. "I want to know what it's like for you to make love to me. I want to know what it's like to feel pleasure and love when - "

He crossed the room in two strides and crushed his mouth to hers. "Oh god, Emma," he panted between kisses. "I thought I was doing what was right for you. Don't cry. I'll make love to you the way you dreamed it would be. Of how I want to love you." He jerked off his clothes, as if desperate to end her pain as soon as possible. Then he wrapped his arms around and took his time with a slow, gentle kiss.

Her stomach churned. If he laid her down, the panic attacks might come back. The -

"Emma, stay out of your head." He trailed kisses down her neck. "Focus on your senses." He guided her hands to run over his chest and kissed her lips again. "Paint me with your fingers - focus on the details." His body shifted a bit like he reached for something, and Love Me Like You Do instrumental music filled the silence. Touch, sound, taste...he wove a world that enveloped every one of her five senses, immersing her so Gaston would not reach her.

She started at his shoulders, gliding her fingers along the top and made a broad curved stroke on the blank canvas. His warmth and scent added to the reality of the painting. Then her fingers trailed down his arms and the curves of his thick muscles formed in strong brushstrokes. His hand buried in her hair as his mouth danced with hers. He held up the palm of his other hand, and she slid her hand up to be palm to palm. Her fingers couldn't reach his tips. Glancing at it, she smiled. His hand was a fair bit wider too, only adding to the sense of an able-bodied protector. Those long fingers curled down between hers and held fast, promising love and safety.

"Touch me," he whispered. "No one ever touches me but you." He guided her hand to his shoulder again. "You can never touch me too much."

The lonely ache in his tone squeezed her heart. Trudy and sometimes Pete would touch her arm or shoulder in conversation, but she'd never seen anyone do it to him. Her family greeted him with hugs and handshakes, but there was no one besides her to fulfill that daily human desire for physical contact. She stood on her toes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her other hand splayed against his chest over his heart. "I'll always want to touch you, Jay." Then she rested her hands on his sides and sprinkled kisses down his chest, glancing up to make sure it was alright.

His eye closed and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths as his hands buried in her hair, as if this simple gesture brought so much pleasure to his soul. It broke her heart. When she knelt, his eye shot open and head whipped down with uncertainty clouding his gaze.

She pressed a kiss to his poor thigh. Then she tilted her head back to meet his eye. "Let me touch."

With a hard swallow, he nodded.

Cupping the warped backs of his poor thighs, she lightly stroked as she kissed the scars on his hips and thighs. Then she stood, stroking his lower back to the swell of his backside. Her heart beat sure and strong, without an ounce of nervousness. But it had fled to him because hesitation looked back at her. "I love you, Jay," she whispered and laid his hand over her drumming heart. "Feel. I desire you."

That was all the reassurance he needed. He drew a shakey breath and crushed his mouth to hers, lifting her into his arms and crossing the room to the bed. Then he laid her down and leaned over her without touching. Without a single word, his gaze asked permission to try because this is how he would've chosen to make love. That look promised only love and to stop if she but asked.

She reached up and stroked his cheek, looking into his eye and granting permission. But also asking to not break eye contact to keep a safe lifeline to hold onto.

He nodded and climbed on the bed, keeping his hips away as he kissed her body and rekindled the passion. It was as if their souls began to come together because he seemed to know exactly when the pleasure washed away all the tension and the courage had taken a firm hold. His chest rose and fell as fast as hers. He settled over her but kept his weight on his arms as he locked his eye with hers.

With gentle patience, he slowly joined her body. "I love you," he whispered. Desire dilated his eye almost completely black.

There was no pain, no fear, no nervousness. Only passion and love. She had done nothing to him and yet he brimmed with passion - it made her heart flutter and this strange confidence in her sexuality began to bloom.

She set her hands on his hips, simply the graceful curves of his muscles under her hands bringing pleasure. His back slowed curled and released. She gasped and grabbed his forearms on each side of her shoulders, completely unprepared for such intense physical pleasure. Her heart raced and he stilled, offering a moment to catch her breath. His expression remained patient but full of intense concentration. Her hands moved to his back that rolled with such beautiful elegance again. This time her fingers pulled him closer. He moved again and her body instinctively arched up to meet him, her eyes fluttering shut. The kisses to her neck made it even more beautiful. The ugliness of Gaston wouldn't be able to break through this magical safehaven that Jason was creating. The instrumental music filling the room swelled, along with her heart.

* * *

The next morning, she woke up to the sound of running water in the bathroom. Rolling onto her back, she stretched. And probably could've purred if she tried.

Jason stepped out already dressed. He smiled and crossed the room to brush a kiss over her lips. "There's my sleeping beauty."

"Is it late?"

"Half past nine." He sat on the edge of the bed.

She rolled onto her side toward him and closed her eyes with a smile. "Mm. I'm tired." A soft kiss caressed her bare shoulder.

"It pleases a man well to hear that his wife is tired the next morning."

She flushed, keeping her eyes closed to avoid the embarrassment.

His hand rested on her hip. "Are you feeling alright?" Concern filled his voice - more concern than should've, given her smiles this morning.

Opening her eyes, she frowned. "Why?"

A line of worry wrinkled his brow. "I found a bit of blood on me this morning that I think is yours. Did I hurt you?"

With hot cheeks, she peeked under the sheets. A few specs of blood mottled it.

He leaned forward and peeked. "Oh god, I did. Emma, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Are you sore? I thought I was being careful so this wouldn't happen. Did I scare you?"

The man positively fretted himself gray. She took the robe he handed her and got up. "Jay, it's alright. I didn't feel it happen and you didn't scare me." Cupping his cheek, she smiled. "Last night was perfect. Don't ruin it." Then she slipped into the bathroom.

The beautiful memories of last night returned. She looked in the mirror. Her cheeks glowed a healthy pink and eyes shined. The victim who had been broken and violated within inches of her life no longer looked back at her. A woman looked back at her - one who was strong and sexy and so madly in love. Something had changed last night. There was passion and giddiness for Jason and something impossible - the desire to make love with a man. Simply having him near made heat curl in her belly. She should've been nervous or scared or ashamed, but he'd slain that monster. At least for now. Undoubtedly there would be another panic attack down the road or doubts that would creep back, but not this morning.

After washing up a few specs of blood on her thigh, she bit her lip and smiled. If this courage was fleeting, she'd take advantage of it. Needing that intimacy and wanting to feel desired, she opened the bathroom door.

He had stripped off the bottom sheet and set it in the corner of the room to be washed. Worry filled his face as he paced and then stopped when he saw her. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No. I think it was harmless." She leaned against the doorframe and bit her lip with a shy smile.

"Tell me if you hurt. I know you said there was some scarring and uncertainty if we'd fit..."

The man rambled on, completely oblivious. She frowned. Maybe those weren't good flirting signals, so she let one side of the robe almost fall off her shoulder. When he kept babbling on, she sighed and walked over to the bed. Pulling up the sheet, she sat on top of it and batted her eyes. The blind man kept spewing nonsense.

"You're not listening." He frowned.

"Nope." She smiled. Maybe he'd finally noticed the signals.

When she heaved an irritated sigh, a soft smile touched his lips. "I'm well aware that you're trying to get my attention; however, I don't know that it's wise to be intimate again today when I made you bleed last night."

"The doctor said there would be some bleeding, but as long as it didn't hurt it's fine." She got up and wandered to the suitcase to get out clothes. "Unless if you don't want to..." Then she let the robe drop to get dressed.

He growled deep in his chest and warm hands ran down her bare back. "I'm never going to not want you, Emma. If it hurts at all, we stop."

* * *

She walked on his arm as he led her across the street from the taxi. The ancient chapel loomed overhead with beautiful, ornate architecture and stained glass windows. Then she glanced at Jason in his suit and dress cost. This morning had been amazing and even more wonderful than last night. Her cheeks flushed at the memory. He'd gotten quite a workout and had afterwards requested a shower together. It had been quite romantic as he'd washed her. She hadn't been as bold to fully wash him, but it had been more due to girlish shyness than nerves. But he seemed to be able to tell that it was shyness. With each intimate encounter, the nervousness faded and in it's place the girlish dreamer grew stronger.

"I like that I make you blush." His honey-smooth baritone interrupted all thought.

Her eyes flew to him and face burned. He studied her. She laid a cool hand against her hot cheek. "I'm too old for such nonsense, and you shouldn't encourage it."

The rake opened the heavy wooden door for her. "On the contrary, you're far from too old and I find it refreshing. There's an innocent side of you that has been coming out lately - a more trusting side of you. I quite like it." Then he leaned over her shoulder as he followed her in and whispered, "Plus, I enjoy being the pursuer."

That really did make her cheeks burn with guilty pleasure, but she certainly wasn't going to admit to enjoying the alpha male side of him. "Hush, Jay. We're in a church."

The man just smiled and took her hand. His voice fell to gentle low tones. "This church dates back to the sixteenth century. Mary, Queen of Scots, actually ruled from France in the mid-sixteenth century - she grew up there with the furture king of France, to whom she was engaged as a child. Upon his death, she returned to Scotland, but her half-brother was a great leader of the Protestant movement. She actually kept him on her Council, which some say eventually led to the downfall of Catholicism in Scotland. By the mid-seventeenth century, Roman Catholicism was outlawed. It wasn't until the early eighteenth century that it returned to the Highlands. Today, fewer than twenty percent of Scotland is thought to be Roman Catholic, and many of those stem from Irish immigrants."

"And that is how you came to be Roman Catholic - because your step-grandfather was Irish?"

He nodded. "About half of Scotland is affiliated with the Church of Scotland, which is of Protestant roots. My entire heritage but my father were Protestant. My father was too deep in his cups to ever practice any religion, and my mother was off working every waking moment. As a child, I didn't know religion. I asked my mother about it once as a teenager. Apparently the pastor refused to baptize me as an infant because of being conceived out of wedlock."

Her eyes widened in horror. "And he deemed an innocent baby as unworthy because of something you had no control over?" She clenched her teeth, seething. "If Jesus could promise the thieves, who died on the cross beside him, salvation, why does Man think He would not take innocent babies?"

He patted her hand on his arm. "The Church is becoming more forgiving nowadays."

She released a breath to calm down and focused on the story. "So when did you become an active Catholic? Was it Charles?" He took his faith so seriously that it had to have been Charles who had impacted him so deeply in this too.

A smile touched his lips as he led her into a pew. She knelt before entering and sat down, pulling off her coat. He knelt and made the sign of the cross before joining her and removing his coat. "Charles impacted me a great deal, but he was not a Savior." Taking her hand, he offered his profile and stared ahead at the altar. "Remember when I mentioned that I got messed up with some hard drugs in high school?"

She nodded and held his hand tighter. Even after all these years, shame still tinted his eye.

"I probably should've gone to a hospital after that seizure, but..." His voice fell and he stared at the floor. "I was so high that I wandered, completely lost." He looked down at her hand and ran his thumb over her fingers. "I remember it was growing dark. I saw a church and knew that at least if I went inside, I'd be alright until morning." A sad smile lifted his cheek. "A young man was inside in feverent prayer. He noticed me come in. He wore robes, and I thought him some kind of holy man but had no idea what a priest was. I was a hard-ass punk, ready for judgement. But he welcomed me, and I ended up telling him everything. I refused to go to the emergency room because my mother had no money. Plus, I didn't want her to find out what I'd done. So, he sat up with me all night - I got so sick I welcomed death. I'm sure he thought I was some lost drug-addict soul, which I suppose I sort of was. Anyways, he sat up with me and taught me about God. I started gradually getting my life under control after that, but it wasn't until many years later that I thought about religion again."

She laid her arm around the back of the pew behind him and turned to face him. "Jason, you got your life back on track. There's no shame in that." She rubbed his shoulder. "How long have you been a Catholic?"

"In the middle of a raid in Afghanistan with the bullets flying and suicide bombers all over, I was scared shitless, pardon the language. It was the first time I was certain we weren't going to make it out. My partner was hit with a bomb, but there was no way in hell I was going to leave his body there where they would've quartered him in celebration of an American death." He stopped himself and shifted. "Forgive me, I shouldn't be talking about such graphic things."

She ran a hand through his hair. "Jay, it's alright to talk about war. It's not good to keep it inside. I can only imagine the things you've seen, and I wish for you to come to me when you need to let it out. I can't promise that I'll know what to say to help, but I'll listen. We can find professional help if you want it."

His eye shifted to her. "Thank you, Emma, but sometimes it's hard on family to hear about things. Part of the SEALS training is to learn how to shut down emotions, so my assignments weren't as traumatizing as you probably think."

She stroked his hair above the hearing device that he seemed to wear on his left side for outings. "I can tell you learned how to shut out emotions."

He glanced at her in embarrassment. "I'm trying to work on that."

Leaning in and brushing a kiss on his cheek, she smiled. "I know and I can tell it's getting better. Sorry, I interrupted your story."

He draped his arm across her lap and absently rubbed the outside of her far thigh. "When I got back from that assignment was when I started going to church and trying to understand what was being preached. I was baptized ten years ago this Easter.

"After the fire, I hadn't gone to church for six months when I met Father Bob. He offered to hold private Mass on Monday mornings and has done it weekly for four years."

"Jay? I know you're uncomfortable going to Mass on Sundays. Being we're married, I'd like for us to go together. May I come with you on Monday mornings? It's before work hours, right?"

"It's at seven o'clock. You wouldn't mind?" A smile tried to break free when he looked at her in surprise.

With a raised brow, she looked him in the eye. "I thought _you_ would mind, so I've never asked."

The smile grew. "Of course not. I would like that, Emma."

"We'll go as a family." She rested her cheek on his shoulder. Silence. Lifting her head, her own smile faded. "Jay?"

He stared down at his lap and heaved a heart-felt sigh. "It's been so long since I've had a family. I think that even when we were engaged, I was half waiting for things to fall apart. I've been on my own for so long..." He swallowed hard and looked at her with tears shimmering in his eye. His hand slipped into hers and he smiled. "It feels good."

The thickness in his voice brought tears to her own eyes.

"I need you to tell me when I'm not being a good husband." His hand tightened. "I didn't have a good example growing up, and I learned how to be a loner. I promise that I will make some collossal mistakes, but I want to learn from them because I want you to be happy."

She swallowed hard and brushed at her eyes before cupping his face in her hands. "Just because I had a good example doesn't mean I'll be better at this than you. I think that you learned a great deal from your father about what not to do, which is sometimes just as powerful as what to do. You're a far better man than you realize. I see you trying every day. It's that effort that counts for so much, Jay. This, right now - opening up like this when I know it's not second nature to you - this is what will keep us strong when we do mess up. Perhaps Gaston happened for a reason - so I would appreciate a good man all the more because I know what it's like to not have that. There will be times that I mess up too, but we'll have a good marriage, Jay."

He pulled her into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder, cocooning her tight in his arms. "I can't even count the number of times I laid in the burn unit and wished you were real," he whispered. "I loved you even then."

The tears fell from her lashes. "I used to lie in bed at night and pretend I had a husband who was extraordinarily kind and patient and loving. Because I didn't believe that a man could want me after him, or that such a man existed. You're more than I hoped for, Jason." Her voice cracked, the emotions so raw and strong.

He sniffled and his hand lifted to brush at his eye. "God, I love you, Emma. Thank heaven I only have one eye or a flood might threaten."

She gave a watery laugh and sat up, pulling the handkerchief out of his breast pocket to dab at his eye. "I like that you're soft inside." When he brushed away her tears and some makeup came away on the handkerchief, she gave an embarrassed smile. "I'd better go clean up before I look like Frankenstein."

He shook his head and dabbed at the outer corner of her eye. "You look pretty, but go satisfy yourself, love."

In the restroom, she touched up her makeup and smoothed a hand over the sapphire evening dress he'd surprised her with this afternoon. The mermaid-style skirt made her curves seem exaggerated and her legs longer. Skin-toned glittering netting extended across the top half of her chest to her neck and then swept down her arms to the wrists. The man had impeccable taste. Something said that he was a thoughtful man who, thirty years from now, would surprise her with just as many gifts as he did now.

When she returned to the chapel, she stilled. Jason knelt on both knees at the steps to the altar, with his head bowed and hands folded in ferverent prayer. Such peace and devotion painted the scene. It stole her breath. This intimate moment was so humbling and reverent. Then he got up and stepped into an old-style confessional along the opposite church wall.

She slowly walked back to the pew. He seemed to find so much passion, even in this one visit to a church. A note sat beside her coat.

 _In the confessional. I'll be out in a minute, sweetheart._

 _Love,_

 _J_

Guilt gnawed. And so did shame. The memories of the priest back in Chicago saying she needed to go to confession because of what Gaston had done...it only compounded the existing shame.

Jason stepped out and closed the door. He returned and sat down. "My apologies, I thought perhaps I'd be back before you were."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Do you want longer?"

"No, I'm fine." He sat back and took her hand.

"Do you go to confession every week?" Her brow knit and she kept her eyes on her lap.

"Perhaps two or three times a month." He was silent for a moment. "Does that bother you?"

Biting her lip, she met his concerned gaze but didn't have the courage to admit how long it'd been since she'd gone to confession. She shook her head and looked away.

"Do you want to go? I'll wait, sweetheart." She shook her head quick - perhaps too quick because he set his hand over hers in her lap. "Em, talk to me. You just clammed up. I'm not going to judge if you want to talk about something."

He truly wouldn't judge. Perhaps he'd be surprised, but he'd understand once she explained. At some point, he'd start to notice that she'd never go to confession. Drawing a deep breath, she stared down at his hand over hers. "After Gaston...I moved back home with my parents. I would have massive panic attacks if I was home alone. Word got to the priest at the church I grew up in, and he pulled me aside after Mass one day. He said I needed to go to confession and I was a sinner and..." Repeating everything was too humiliating. "I was too ashamed to go to church for months. Nana told him off and dragged me to church with her and Andy the next Sunday. He didn't say anything after that." She shrugged off the hurt.

"Emma, you did nothing wrong and you aren't a 'sinner' for being attacked. That's why you didn't want to get married at your hometown church, isn't it? Because it would've been him doing the ceremony?" He caught her chin with his finger to lift her gaze. "I wish you would've told me this so I wouldn't have asked you about the wedding location so many times." He stroked her cheek. "I don't know this priest here, but I know Father Bob would be kind and confirm that the other priest is an idiot. How the hell is it your fault that an asshole fucking raped you - " He cut off his own words and drew a deep breath to calm down.

A smile tugged at her lips over the anger in his tone.

He threw up his hands. "That's probably a sin to curse in church. And probably some type of blasphemy to call a priest an idiot. I may as well go back to confession right now. It's not a priest's job to judge. Shame on him."

The outrage on her behalf was comforting, in an odd way - to know that he was willing to challenge to take her side.

He pulled out his cell phone. "It's morning in Colorado. I have Father Bob's number in my phone in case I need to cancel Monday mornings with him. You can call him right now and talk to him, or we can do it together. I'm not saying that you have to call, but you shouldn't be walking around feeling guilty like this." He set the phone on the pew between them.

She looked at it and nibbled her lip. Father Bob was sweet. He and Jason seemed to respect each other a great deal, but to call him out of the blue with this seemed...awkward. And if he agreed with the other priest... But part of her wanted to let the shame go. Marriage was a fresh start, and Jason had already helped so much in releasing some of the pain. Maybe it would be good to do this.

"You look like you want to. Do you want me to call and explain what the call is about? I'll tell him not to comment to me on what I say, and you can talk to him in private in the other confessional. I don't have to know a single word of the conversation."

She shouldn't be such a coward, but she needed the nudge and the moral support of Jason. Swallowing down her stomach, she nodded.

He dialed and paced in irritation as he explained the situation. Then he stopped and listened, resting a hand on his hip. "Yes, thank you." Turning to her, he held out the phone. "He didn't comment at all, so it's completely between you and him. I don't think he's going to be in agreement with the other priest, though. Do you want to do this?"

She nodded and took the phone as he led her to an empty confessional.

"I'll let the priest know not to open his door for you," he whispered and then closed the door.

When she stepped out with tears in her eyes a few minutes later, he looked shocked and hurried over in concern. Pulling her into his arms, he stroked her back. "Emma, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have said to call him - "

"You were right."

He stilled and then bent to be eye level. "These are good tears?"

She gave a watery smile and nodded, the relief so overwhelming. It had been an invisible weight on her shoulders, not even knowing it was there until it was gone. Then she flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Jason," she whispered. "He said to stop being ashamed because it just hurts us."

He kissed the side of her neck and held so tight. "Never be ashamed with me, sweetheart. Nothing will ever make me love you less."

* * *

It was a beautiful and elegant but small restaurant. Ornate mahogany wood carvings accented the walls and dim chandelier lighting cast a romantic glow. A small candle on each table added to the lovely ambiance.

Couples in the small dining room stared at Jason's mask as he handed over their coats. Hushed whispered cut under the dining music. Jason carried on with the host without missing a beat. "We have a seven o'clock reservation for Port."

She ignored the stares too and stood on his arm tall and proud.

The host recovered quickly from his staring. "Yes, Mr. Port. We have a private table ready for you, sir. This way, please."

The man had a formal British accent, the first she'd heard so far in Scotland. To Jason's credit, he didn't correct the host on the improper address. Knowing Jason, he probably hadn't mention the doctor title at all when making the reservation. She smiled, caring about the stares even less.

The host held out the chair for her in a room in the back. There were four corner tables with very high wooden dividing walls for privacy. The far wall held a large stone fireplace and a roaring fire warmed the room.

"Thank you." She sat and laid her clutch on the table.

"Your waitor will be with you in a moment." He handed over the menus.

"Thank you." Jason didn't bother to open the menu but set down the menu and turned his gaze to her when the host left.

The waitor arrived. "Can I start you off with champaigne or wine?" He rattled through a list of unfamiliar and probably expensive brands.

"Would you like wine, love?"

She shook her head in uncertainty. "I don't really drink it enough to have a preference." Or to be able to repeat the names.

"Perhaps a white wine. Something sweet?" When she nodded, he ordered her a glass of something that sounded elegant. Then the waitor left.

"I wish you would eat." She set her menu on the table too.

"I will eat later tonight. There are limited places where we can go out for dinner back home - where we would have a private table so you wouldn't feel odd eating alone. I wanted to take you out somewhere nice for our honeymoon." He folded his hands over the menu. "If you strongly object, we don't have to stay."

He wanted to give her a romantic night out as best he could, and she couldn't bring herself to deny him that. "On two conditions. First, you must order a meal to take home. Second, we have to eat dinner together - both of us eating - at least once a week from now on. I won't have some invisible monster grow between us."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I get to choose which meal, as some are more sightly than others for being a dining companion."

She nodded. "Fine. But there is no excuse that each meal is unsuitable all week. You have a mouth and can request that Trudy makes an agreeable meal."

The smile bloomed. "Fine. Do you have other marriage demands, wife?" A huskiness crept into his voice.

Sitting up straighter and holding back a blush as much as possible, she lifted her chin. Folding her hands on the table, she said with more spine than she felt, "Yes."

Amusement glinted in his eye, clearly not expecting her to rise to the challenge.

Goodness, her face burned. "I expect that four nights a week to sleep in the same room. That leaves three nights for you to have space, which my understanding is ample time?" In Florida, he'd mentioned that even one night a week would be sufficient time for him to decompress. The whoas of marrying a genius.

He tilted his head and gave a single nod. "We may find that it's more than ample. Go on."

The waitor arrived just then with the wine. "Are you ready to order?"

"We need a few more minutes, please," Jason answered but didn't shift his eye from her. The waitor left.

Taking a deep breath of courage for this bold conversation, she held his gaze. "At least once a week we share a bed." Her heart beat fast.

He sat back and rolled the stem of his water glass between his thumb and forefinger. Still, he didn't break eye contact. But neither did he break the silence.

Taking a long drink of wine without even tasting it, she set the glass down. Perhaps he wanted a better commitment than that. The butterflies in her stomach didn't calm at all, so she took another long drink.

The man sat forward and reached across the table to take her hand. "Emma." His gentle tone cut through some of the nerves. "We aren't going to have a minimum. That is undue pressure. If we make love three times one week and then none the next two weeks, then that's perfect. Whatever happens is perfect, sweetheart."

Drawing a deep breath, she bit her lip. "This morning I wasn't nervous." She ran a hand over her updo. "I don't know why I am tonight."

When she picked up the glass, he eased it out of her hands. "It's natural to swing extremes in the beginning. But you're not going to drink away the nerves. We aren't going to have sex tonight."

Running a tongue over her lower lip to catch a stray drop of wine, she then caught the lip between her teeth. This whole evening seemed based on seduction.

"Just because we can doesn't mean we have to every night. You need a break, as does your body. If we push too hard, we will lose the trust established." He sat back, that blue eye diving right into her soul as he lazily rolled the wineglass stem between his fingers again. "Besides, there are nights when I'll simply wish to sit with my best friend and other nights when I'll desire to just admire my wife." His voice vibrated low and husky, with a caramel-like smoothness.

Letting her lashes sweep down, her eyes searched the table in thought. This was not the cool, distant man from months ago. Then she looked at him from beneath her lashes. "What's gotten into you?" The words came out soft and supple.

With a gentle smile, he sat forward and took her hand. "You, Emma." Then he brought her hand to his lips. "Your desire and trust give me confidence that I never expected to have again with a woman. It's safe with you."

That melted her heart, and she probably looked like a love-sick puppy as she held his hand. "I thought this night was a prelude seduction."

He smiled. "No, but I'll keep that in mind." A wink and another kiss on the back of her hand, and he released her. "What would you like to eat, sweetheart."

She opened the menu. Ashire ham hock, spiced damson puree, colcannon with smoked bacon...none of these were familiar entrees. When she looked up, he was watching intently. "Um, I don't know what these are," she admitted in embarrassment.

The man simply smiled and got up. He came around and rested a hand on the back of her chair and ran a finger down the menu as he leaned in and explained.

His woodsy, masculine scent that was so familiar drifted closer. His body emitted heat against her side. His voice floated in a beautiful baritone hum. She looked up at his handsome profile.

When he glanced at her, he stopped midsentence. "You aren't paying attention to a word I'm saying, are you?" He smiled like he didn't mind one bit.

Her lips split in a huge smile, not feeling an ounce of remorse. "No. Give me a kiss, Jay." It was a quite satisfactory one, and then he explained the menu again.

He returned to his seat. "It is the age of feminism, so is it your preference to order for yourself or may I do so?"

She smiled. "Because you asked, I do not mind if you do so now and then. It's old-fashioned and sweet. I'll have the..." Furrowing her brow, she looked at the menu and tried to recall how he'd pronounced them. "Maybe you should just order," she laughed and pointed.

A smile lit up his eye as he read the entree just as the waitor returned and set down a basket of bread. "The lady will have the..." He handed over the menus as he placed her order. "Is it possible to have a meal boxed to go?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We don't typically do that, and we don't have any type of container for that."

Jason simply nodded. "That'll be the order then. Thank you."

The waitor frowned. "I didn't get your order, sir."

"Just for the lady, thank you." If he hadn't looked so embarrassed, she would've implored the waitor to see if there was something he could find to send home a meal.

When the waitor left, she picked up a slice of bread and pulled off a piece of the soft inside. "What if you order a plate? I can go to the powder room for a bit while you eat." She popped the piece in her mouth - he might not be so resistant to her offering him some if it seemed less like feeding him. Then she pulled off another and offered it to him.

He held up a hand and shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm not making you sit in the washroom while I eat. We won't be getting home that late. Alisa will have food in the refrigerator."

How much he was alienated because he couldn't eat around anyone. Testing the water and asking about the teeth implants couldn't hurt. "Have you thought about if you want the dental implants? I know he said you could after a year, which I think is this month." She took a sip of wine to look as nonchalant as possible.

Lines of tension formed around his mouth.

She laid a hand across the table over his. "I ask because if you have the surgery, I wish to be there with you. And yes, I wish for your life to be easier, but I do not wish for you to have it for my sake. If you have the surgery, I will love kissing you. If you do not, I will love kissing you."

His shoulders relaxed, but his brow wrinkled in concern as he looked down at her hand. "You have known both ways. Which is your preference?"

Shaking her head, she squeezed his hand. "There is no such thing. I want what will make you happy."

That vibrant blue eye rose to meet hers, the answer so apparent but him unwilling to say it.

A huge sigh of relief escaped and she closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't wish for you to have such difficulty eating, but I'm so glad you're not having it. With the scarring from the burns, I've been worried how well you'd heal. People who have no added complications have trouble healing."

He swallowed hard. "I didn't know how to tell you." His eye fell to the table. "I had to see him for a follow up the week before the wedding. He said that the bone healed well enough, but it wouldn't sustain the pressure of implants. I was going to get them because we could have more meals together, and it would just overall be better..." He offered a slight shrug, as if trying to hide the disappointment. "I don't really have anything planned for tomorrow as our last day. Our flight leaves at four o'clock the next afternoon - I suspect we'll have an easier time arriving home in the morning and pulling a long day than trying to sleep again." The man clearly wanted to change the topic.

"We can have a lazy day tomorrow and do whatever strikes us." Pressing her lips together, she hesitated. "Alright, I know you don't want to talk about it, but I can't not give you a hug." She pushed the chair back and walked around the table, squeezing into his lap and giving a fierce hug. "I love you just as much, Jay."

With a smile, he hugged her tight. "Thank you, Emma. I needed that. I love you too."

The poor man needed something lighthearted and unexpected to make him laugh. So she sat back holding his shoulders, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue.

Before he could even react, a man's voice cut in. "Here's your dinner, miss." The waitor walked up from behind Jason and set the plate in front of the empty chair. "Will there be anything else?" He kept a straight face, as if seeing a woman making a monkey of herself in a man's lap was an everyday occurrence in the restaurant.

She paled and stared at the man like a deer in headlights. Jason's shoulders shook under her hands and he turned his head away, as if trying not to laugh. "Thank you, no."

When the waitor left, she buried her face in the crook of Jason's shoulder.

He burst out laughing. "I see I shouldn't take you out in public." His voice rose as he tried to talk through the tears running down his cheek.

Her jaw dropped and she swatted his shoulder. "It's your fault!"

"See? Now you're having a tantrum." He practically rolled on the floor and wheezed for air. "Oh god, that was priceless."

Rolling her eyes, she returned to her own seat as he wiped his eye. "So glad I amuse you," she replied dryly and picked up a fork.

"Ah, Em, I don't know what I'd do without you." He sat back with a smile still on his face.

She took a bite of the sauteed mushrooms that had a hint of sweet, salty tang, and her eyes rolled back. "Oh my, you have to try this." Piercing a smaller mushroom with her fork, she held it out to him.

He ate it off the fork and pulled out his own handkerchief to hold to his lips. "Mmm, that is good."

Taking another for herself to give him time to chew, her eyes drifted to the handkerchief as subtly as possible. He had a perfectly good cloth napkin on the table. When he lowered the handkerchief and folded it, the corner that he'd used was damp and stained a bit brown with the juices from the mushroom. It hurt to see him struggle with something so basic and simple that should be enjoyable. "Would you like some of the pork? Or bread?"

"No, thank you, love." He folded his hands in his lap and sat back.

So she focused on cutting the food, but it was impossible to ignore the intense gaze. She looked up. "Jason, this isn't right to eat in front of you."

"Emma, I don't mind. I was just thinking."

"About what?" She took another bite. The intensity of his look made the butterflies awaken in her belly.

"How peaceful it is to watch your graceful movements."

Dropping her gaze to hide the flush, she continued eating. "Have you heard from Trudy or Pete at all?"

"I called Ms. Van Hoodie a few days ago to make sure everything was fine. She mentioned that Prince is moping around without you."

"Ohhh." She set down the fork and frowned. "The poor thing. Is he eating? Maybe we should go home tomorrow."

A smile touched his lips. "She is coaxing him to eat by handfeeding, but he is not absent from their daily cooking sessions, so I daresay he isn't in danger of perishing from starvation. I would probably be moping around and not eating either without you."

"I believe that you would too, if I was away on my honeymoon." He deserved a bit of teasing for being so suave tonight.

The man scowled. "That's not amusing."

She smiled and pierced another piece of meat. "I'm already legshackled to you, Jay, and have no intention of leaving."

"This time last year, I was trying to nurse a broken heart." He said it so quiet that perhaps she'd imagined it. Grief clouded his features, though. "I know it was of my own doing. Don't tease about that, Emma." His eye locked with hers.

Her heart twisted at the pain the memory brought to his face. Scooting her chair around the table to be beside him, she set her hand on his arm. "I won't tease about it again." Then she leaned in and brushed a kiss over his lips.

He set his hand over hers on his arm and searched her eyes. "Promise that no matter how angry we get that we won't make empty threats of divorce."

Her brow furrowed in concern. "Of course not. You still fear that if I see your face, I'm going to run."

Shaking his head, he swallowed hard. "I know you wouldn't run. But we would not have this anymore, Emma. And that is just as bad as losing you - to have you within my sight but forever out of reach."

With a heavy sigh, she stroked his cheek. "For such a brilliant man, you are blind, my Jay." When he made no comment, she sighed and pulled her plate over.

"You are eating over here?"

She picked up her fork and offered a gentle smile. "I told you that I like to sit beside rather than across. I want to be near you."

He smiled and laid a hand across the back of her chair. "I think I like this better too."

The man fingered her curls and accepted another bite of food as she ate and chattered away about seeing the Northern Lights. The smile didn't leave his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Home. It felt so good to be back home. Yesterday had been a tired blur staying up for nearly twenty-four hours with the jet lag.

She got out of her bed. Prince jumped up from the dog bed at the foot of the bed that Trudy had said was from Jason. The dog trotted into the bathroom with her. It would probably take a week before Prince wouldn't be glued to her side anymore - the poor thing seemed like he worried she'd disappear like his previous elderly owner. She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door connecting to Jason's room. With a heavy heart, she shut the bathroom door and turned to stare in the mirror.

Jason had disappeared into his office yesterday afternoon with an apology about some kind of research work crisis. He'd holed up in his office until after midnight, either busy with work or avoiding her. Maybe the honeymoon had been too much time together and he needed some space to breathe. It hadn't seemed right to take the liberty of sleeping in his bed without asking, so she'd gone to sleep in her own room...with the hope that he'd come. It was the first night without him since the wedding two weeks ago. It had been harder to accept the separation than expected. But it was the first of many nights alone, according to their agreement, so it was better to get used to it now.

A few minutes later, she stepped into the clothes closet and let the new rose pink silk nightgown glide down her skin to pool at her feet. Running her hand over the dozens of clothes, she put on a caramel cashmere sweater and gray flowing pants. Enough clothes lined the walls to not have to buy more for at least a couple years. It seemed odd to have an excess, much less such fine things. Even ten years from now, it would still feel odd to not have to worry about money. Scooping up her nightclothes, she draped them over the footboard and eyed the connecting bedroom door.

She walked over and knocked, hating this barrier. After sharing a bedroom with him for two weeks, this felt like ten steps backwards in the marriage. Some of the walls that had come down during the honeymoon seemed to be re-erecting with this door.

No sound came from within. She cracked the door open. Not a single sign of him, not even a rumpled bed. Perhaps he got ready for the day in the bathroom. Walking into the room, she glanced at the empty bathroom. An old-fashioned strop and razor laid on the counter. Drops of water still clung to the sink, so he must've been in here recently.

Glancing up, she frowned at the small rectangular mirror on the wall. It had always been there, but it had never seemed so obvious as right now. It stretched less than a half meter wide, just large enough to see a portion of a face. Her room had the vanity desk with three-way mirrors and her bathroom had a large wall mirror, but come to think of it, the other rooms in the house didn't have mirrors. A sour taste formed as her stomach churned - the lack of mirrors was intentional.

She wandered downstairs. He sat at his desk working on the laptop and glanced up when Prince raced ahead to greet him. "Good morning. I expected you to sleep later." He didn't smile or move to offer a kiss. His voice held more nonchalance than emotion. Today he didn't wear jeans and a sweater but his usual business suit.

It had been hard to sleep without him - without his warmth and protection after having it for so many nights. And it had been lonely. "Have you been up long?" She stopped on the opposite side of his desk, his manner not exactly welcoming.

He kept his eye on the computer screen. "Not long. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Ms. Van Hoodie is making breakfast in the kitchen." His fingers didn't even pause in the clicking on the keyboard.

The ache inside only grew. It had been nearly a day since he'd last seen her, and he offered no hug or sign that he'd missed the closeness that had developed during the honeymoon. She folded her hands together. His aloof manner made this uncomfortable. Perhaps he was stressed and tired. "Did you go to bed late?"

"I didn't get off the phone until nearly one o'clock in the morning." His eye lifted from the computer and cut straight through her. "We agreed four nights a week in the same room."

That stung, raw and hard. Clearly the terms set during the honeymoon were still in affect. And had apparently started last night. It hadn't occurred that the first night home from the honeymoon would be spent apart. She wrapped her arms around herself. "The door doesn't have to be closed." The connecting door had been open when she'd gone to bed.

"The whole point of it is for you to not see my face." His eye narrowed, seeming irritated by the conversation.

She stared in surprise. Something inside deep inside wrenched and tore open, releasing a wave of hurt. This wasn't the open, romantic man from the honeymoon who wore sweaters and jeans. This was the business man, the man with the mask and suit who kept everyone at arm's length. He was cool, clean, and...cold.

Perhaps he was stressed and tired. Or this was just how things were going to be - back to how they had been before the wedding; so perfectly guarded and each move calculated. The sting too much of a shock to even cry, she swallowed hard. He had no tolerance for her presence, so she turned and walked out without a word.

Trudy intercepted in the foyer. "Morning! I have my tapioca and flat cakes cooking..." The cheerfulness turned into concern and the woman laid a hand on her shoulder. "A goose in hay, what's the matter? Ya should be lit up like a firefly from the honeymoon, don'tcha know."

Trudy's voice carried, and Jason would probably hear. Him coming out from guilt was the last thing that would help the situation. She peeked over her shoulder and, sure enough, he came out.

Turning back to Trudy, she pasted on a smile and linked her arm through Trudy's. "Nothing's wrong. I'll help you." She pulled Trudy toward the kitchen.

Jason's office door slammed.

The woman's eyes widened. "Are ya havin' a spat already? Oh, that's none of my business. You come and have something to fill that belly."

Apparently she'd done something to hurt him yesterday. Avoiding each other wouldn't do anything and, dammit, this wasn't how this marriage would go. "I'll be right back." She spun around and stormed across the foyer, barging into his office without knocking.

That blue eye looked up and followed her march across the room. She dropped her hands on the opposite side of the desk, his angry look only irking her temper up a notch. "What are you so angry about?"

His jaw muscle flexed. "I didn't realize the three nights a week apart would start our first night home." He practically seethed and stood, gathering the mess of ledgers on the desk. "Compiled with your nonchalance, I'm not exactly in the best mood." Then he swept past to the bookshelf and put away the ledgers.

She blinked and turned to face him. "I thought you kept working because you didn't want to be around me. I waited for you in my room until midnight." The hurt leaked out in her voice.

He looked over his shoulder in surprise, and his hand still touched a ledger he'd just pushed onto the shelf. "I had a huge mess to clean up. I told you that, Emma." His voice softened a hint. "You were in _your_ bed. I thought that meant you wanted to be left alone."

With a shake of her head, she leaned back against the desk. "I wasn't sure if it was alright to go to sleep in your bed, or if you need that to be your space if you're feeling overwhelmed." She bit her lip, the vulnerablity creating an ache for him to make it all better.

His arm dropped from the ledger and he frowned. "Is that why you left the connecting door open? As an invitation?"

She nodded and glanced away for a moment in self-consciousness. "I don't want things to go back to how they were before the honeymoon. I know you don't want to share a room and be smothered, but...I miss it."

Without looking, he jammed the last ledger on the shelf on top of other books and his legs ate up the distance to her. "I liked it too, Emma." He stood there, face-to-face without touching.

She lifted her eyes to his. "I don't want to drive you away like in Florida by being around too much, but I don't want a marriage where we're sleeping in separate rooms all the time either. I thought we got closer on the honeymoon - where we could talk if we were hurt."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "We did. I mean, you ..." Dropping his hand, he stepped beside her and half sat on the desk too while keeping his gaze on the ground. "It was different not being here, Emma. Things felt free and safe. Coming back here, all the old insecurities rushed back. The minute we stepped through that door, I was relieved that there was a work emergency." His eye shifted to her, the sadness so prevalent. "I panicked that maybe it would hit you what it's going to be like living day in and day out with this." He gestured toward the mask. "Then when I found you in your own bed, I..."

"Assumed I meant it in the worst way," she filled in.

He nodded with a guilty look. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have assumed." Again, he sighed and then rubbed the back of his neck. "All these insecurities that disappeared on the honeymoon are back, and I don't know why."

She laid a hand on his arm. Too much of a jump in intimacy might spook him. "Is it the house? Maybe you're associating it with the accident."

"I don't know." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I have an executive meeting in two minutes." Then he stood, the strain evident in his face. It faded for a moment as he studied her. "I have a spot open on the board yet."

With a smile, she stood too. "I should go start work." Then she pecked a kiss on his cheek. "I love you, Jay."

The disappointment reflected in his eye, but he took it with grace. "I love you too, Em." Then he walked around to sit at his desk, but his voice caught her before she reached the door. "If I'm late tonight, I hope to find you sleeping in my room."

The gentle invitation and hope in his voice tugged at her heart. Turning, she offered a soft smile. "You will, Jay."

His shoulders relaxed and he picked up the phone.

She turned and opened the door, catching part of the conversation.

"Hello, Leonard, it's Jason...yes, the honeymoon was wonderful...no, she hasn't." He made eye contact when she turned to close the door. "I agree that Emma would be amazing for the position. She knows it's hers if she changes her mind."

With a hint of guilt, she shut the door but leaned her forehead against it for a moment.

"I asked her again today, and I'm going to respect her decision. I won't press her into something she's uncomfortable with...I agree it's just that she doesn't have the self-confidence is the driver behind turning down the position, but I'm not going to abuse my position as her husband to make her do something she's uncomfortable with...Leo, I'm done discussing this." His voice took on a firm note. "Dial us in to the board meeting."

So Jason was taking heat for her not being on the board. He hadn't brought it up since December or passed along the pressure onto her to join, to his everlasting credit. Apparently he had the board convinced that she had amazing capabilities. Love could be so blind. She shook her head with a smile and went to the kitchen.

* * *

She sat at the kitchen table with Trudy and Pete for dinner. Jason had popped in during lunch long enough for a quick kiss and plate of food that Trudy had waiting for him before he'd disappeared again. Right at six o'clock, Jason strode in.

"Good evening." He swept past to a plate of food on the island counter, without offering a smile or kiss. "I expect to be done at eight. Are you finished working?" His gaze shifted to her. Tension hid in the crinkles at the corner of his eye.

"If you're still working, I'm going to catch up too." He didn't appear eager to finish work.

"Alright." He picked up his plate and hesitated.

Her heart beat faster. Maybe he'd invite her to dine. More than twenty-four hours and they'd barely spoken. There was so much to tell him about nothing at all - one of the joys of married life to have someone around each night to tell about the insignificant nuances of the day. Simply the pleasure of being intimate by sharing a meal or lying in the same bed at night with him made the giddiness bubble up enough to chatter all night.

"I'll see you later tonight." He left without a backwards glance.

The bubble burst, sending her heart floating to the floor in a deflated heap. Swallowing down the disappointment, she pasted on a smile and turned back to Trudy and Pete. "He's so behind with being gone two weeks and being the CEO and all."

"Very busy." Pete nodded but stared down at his nearly empty plate with fierce intensity.

Trudy nodded and dropped her gaze to her plate too. Then she and Pete glanced at each other with a look of pity.

She pushed the food around on her plate in miserable silence.

* * *

At eight o'clock, she sat on his bed in a small red lace teddy and red silk robe from Trudy's contribution of wedding wardrobe attire. A fire danced and crackled in the fireplace, offering a romantic golden glow.

Sitting was too stiff and unsexy. She spread out on her side. No, too brazen. So she slipped under the covers - too prudish. The doorknob turned. Flinging off the covers, she scrambled to her knees. No. Sitting was best. She shifted her weight. And got tangled in the robe and plopped onto her back. Dashing the hair out of her face just as he stepped in, she bent up her leg to give the illusion of the position being intentional and sexy.

He stopped in his tracks with his hand still on the doorknob. Silence.

Her face grew warm. Perhaps he didn't like it. She sat up and pulled the robe shut. "It's colder tonight than I thought. I'm going to change and..."

In three strides, he crossed the room and eased her down with light pressure on her shoulder while he remained standing. There was something about him - something sad and starving and aching. But he kept an emotional distance enough that nothing was clear - it was like looking through a fog to read him. The undertones of the emotions pulsed, but he remained aloof enough that it was impossible to do anything more than sense those emotions present in him.

He eased open the robe, sending her heart galloping. If he let a wall slip while making love, it might be possible to see what was wrong. Maybe he'd let her get closer and that intimacy from the honeymoon would return. Desire dilated his eye. His warm hands ran down her breasts and stomach and hips to stroke through the fabric between her thighs.

She arched up at the flood of warmth that burst at his touch. Her lips parted in a silent awe. Then he withdrew his hand and stroked down the insides of her thighs, creating shivers of desire. Biting her lip, she held fistfuls of the pillow to keep from reaching for him and scaring him away.

"Your time hasn't come?" His voice flow husky and low, void of emotion other than desire as he eased his weight to sit on the edge of the bed. When she shook her head, he ran his hands up her thighs. Nudging the thin lace aside, his finger stroked the core of her desire.

A soft gasp and her eyes closed as her back rolled. "Tomorrow," she breathed and clutched the pillow tighter.

The man continued the slow, glorious torture until her heart couldn't beat any faster. Then he withdrew his hand. His eye trailed up her body, drinking in every inch. But he didn't touch or make eye contact. "You're so willing to find pleasure in my touch." Pain eminated from his voice.

Her heart stumbled. "Jay?" She reached for him, concern dissipating the desire.

He caught her hand and held it down on the bed for a moment, as if saying to not touch. But his eye remained on her body, following where his other hand caressed over every curve, as if needing to memorize what it felt like to touch her. His wall slipped and incredible pain and grief filled his eye.

Her heart wrenched. Something terrible had happened. Something about him - related to his burns. "Jason?"

But he leaned down and pressed kisses over her belly and desire and thighs through the material, sending all coherent thought out the window. When she ran her fingers through his silky hair as he kissed her inner thigh, he pulled her hand away and created incredible pleasure where she needed him most.

She laid on the sheets, her chest still heaving and body too weak to move from the after effects when he sat up.

"Good night, my love," he whispered. In one fluid motion, he disappeared out the hallway door.

It took a few momens to comprehend what had just happened and to steady her legs. Then she pulled on a thick, fluffy robe of roses and padded through the halls in search of him. Earlier he had agreed to sleeping in the same room, but he had left sounding like he no longer had the intention of doing so. Something had deeply upset him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to shut himself up like a hermit again.

His office and the aboritum were empty. The cabin room showed no sign of him either. Room after room turned up nothing. She crossed the foyer from the kitchen when a crack in the doorframe of the library glowed orange. Stepping over to it, she knocked on the solid wood door and cracked it open.

He sat on the settee, leaning his elbows on his knees and facing the large fireplace.

She slipped in and knelt at his feet without a word. A full decantur of an amber liquid perched on the coffee table before him. The man never touched any form of drink because of his father. The fact that a full one was his companion made concern rise up.

That blue eye stared at the fire for several moments. "Be thankful for the scars, Emma. If I could, I would've downed the whole damn thing already. But having to go find a straw made me rethink it." No emotion came through his monotone voice, except for disgust.

"Jason, don't shut me out." She rose onto her knees and reached to touch his chin to turn his gaze. When he turned his head away and caught her hand, the breath froze on her lips. Drawing air hurt deep in her chest. Pulling her hand away, she sank back on her haunches in shock. She swallowed hard. "I don't understand what I've done these past two days to revolt you so much that you won't let me touch you anymore. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I'd never try to hurt you, Jason."

He closed his eye and his throat convulsed in a hard swallow.

Tears welled. "But this is not fair to punish me when I don't even know what I did."

When he opened his eye and finally looked at her, a tear rolled down his cheek. "You did nothing wrong," he whispered, his voice failing him. "The honeymoon wasn't real life. I've damned you to a life you don't deserve."

Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? I wanted nothing more than to marry you - "

He pulled his phone out of the holster on his hip, unlocked the screen, and handed it to her.

It was a tabloid website. Her eyes only got as far as 'Billionaire Dr. Jason Port was seen...' She tossed it on the empty settee cushion.

He blinked. "Are you going to read it?"

Her eyes narrowed on his and her lips pursed with irritation. "It's trash. Why am I going to waste time reading it? And why did you?"

Anger glowed in his eye. He practically hissed. "Someone got a picture of me without the mask. And maybe I give a damn that my wife is being smeared in the media too."

The words died in her mouth with a bitter taste. Dear god, this wasn't happening. "How would've someone gotten your picture?"

"It's in the car we rented for Florida. I'm guessing that kid at the fast food place where we stopped."

Her stomach fell. The kid who had made the insult about having seen Jason's face. "That was months ago!"

"And it probably took months for the tabloids to figure out who I was because I've avoided any press with the Foundation."

The Foundation. A bell went off. "It wasn't a research emergency yesterday, it was meetings with the Foundation because this was leaked and you had to do damage control."

He snorted and stood to pace before the fire. "Rumors that some mangled man ran a plastic surgery hospital were easy enough to negate. A proof and picture of the irony...our numbers have dropped since this was released three days ago. Read the goddamn article."

It was a free children's hospital, with a stellar reputation. Who would not go there because of a rumor like this? She picked up the article that spewed about the beast-like billionaire marrying her. And then Carolyn's name popped in with a quote, and she swallowed down the bile that shot up in her throat.

 _The scars aren't as ugly as his heart. I'm in this jail and my baby is without a mother because of him. That pretty little wife of his has no idea what monster lies under the mask - a mask that she's never seen him without. He looks like the devil and is twice as evil. I don't know how he's running that hospital, but my child will never go there even if it is her last option to live._

"Why the hell did they interview her? _How_ did they get a statement from her in jail?!" She threw down the phone on the settee. "And here is little miss innocent again being a holy terror." Surging to her feet, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why did you get her an appeal?"

He stopped pacing and blinked. "What?"

"At first I thought you were trying to be forgiving or Christian or felt guilty leaving her baby without a mother. But this isn't about that. She's unstable, Jason, and even in jail she's coming after you!" She laid a hand on her chest. "I kept my mouth shut about it, but I want to know why you got her an appeal. The Feds were going to go after her - "

He exploded. "Because for her to go to prison would've meant you and Jack being dragged into court!" The veins in his neck bulged as he thrust a finger at the ground. "What I asked you to do was illegal and you'd be in that prison instead of her if we would've let the Feds go digging into it!"

"They _knew_! I was suspended for two weeks because of it - "

"Your boss pulled strings left and right to cover it up! Have you looked at your record?!" His eye sliced through her. "It doesn't say that you illegally hacked a company with a top-secret bug! So it wouldn't look suspicious, _I_ reduced charges so they wouldn't dig too deep into the case! Olin promised that if I did that, you would stay out of prison!" Then a look of hurt betrayal crossed his face. "And thank you for the vote of confidence that I'm loyal to you." Then he whirled around and slammed the door.

She sank onto the settee and ran her hands over her face. Everything was spiraling out of control so fast, and she'd just made it worse. There had to be more to this. Things couldn't fall apart this fast without more driving it.

Picking up the phone, she tried to unlock it. Not her birthday or his or their anniversary. Then she typed in the day they'd met - 1213. It unlocked. It wasn't so much the article that said much more. She scrolled down to the comments. Luckily, no one seemed to put the two together of Andrew O'Malley and Jason Port both having burned faces. But then again, the world had seen Andrew freshly burned and believed him dead.

Snide and cruel comments danced across the screen, but it was one in particular that broke her heart.

 _That poor wife. If he loved her, he wouldn't marry her. Has he thought about what he's done to her life? The stares and whispers she's become a part of? And children will be ostracized. I hope they don't have children. His wife married a monster._

That had to be the comment that had shaken him, made him doubt himself and that marriage to him had been the best choice for her.

 _His wife is so hot. I read about her in the paper a few years ago in a rape trial and now she ends up with this beast of a husband? I'll show her what a real man is like._

More comments branched off of that.

 _Ditto that. I'd bang her too. How do the freaks always get the hot girls? I can be freaky if that's what she wants._

 _Guys, keep it clean on the forum. The girl obviously feels sorry for that guy. I mean, it's gotta be rough being that disfigured, and his mouth too. He probably doesn't get any female attention and deserves for a hot girl to take pity on him._

 _What a loser. Feel sorry for that girl in jail and his wife. I couldn't stand having a man like that in my bed. She'd better keep the bedroom door locked at night._

 _What a psycho freak! And they let him run a children's hospital?! What the &#*$!_

On and on the comments went, more of them focused on his looks than the actual accusations Carolyn had made. So many of them painted him as a beast who was so far beneath her and had ruined her life. These comments had gotten in his head and spooked him. She hurried out to find him.

He stood at the front door with his back to her and pulled on his coat. The clank of keys dangled from his hand.

At first panic surged up and then anger. She marched across the foyer, her bare feet silent on the marble floor, and snatched the keys out of his hand when he adjusted his neck collar.

He startled and whirled around. "Emma!" The man reached for the keys.

She held them back. "What the hell are you doing? You can't drive down the mountain, and you sure as hell aren't doing it in the dark during winter!"

The man's face flushed and his eye narrowed, looking ready to fully explode. "What else am I too mangled to do?"

"I'm not playing that game." Flinging the keys, they sailed through the air and landed with a clang to skid across the floor thirty feet away. Then she grabbed his lapels to keep him there. His body vibrated with rage on the verge of being unleashed. A year ago it would've been terrifying to face a man's wrath, but this was Jason, the man who would never harm her. "Stop it. I didn't mean what I said about Caro - "

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed her wrists and whirled around to press her against the cool wood door. "Don't touch me like I'm your goddamn knight. You made a grave error and wed the dragon," he hissed.

The self-loathing that ripped him apart sliced right through her, so agonizing that she couldn't breathe. The hot breath of the dragon that should've burned was merely a welcomed warmth against the chill of the night.

"You wait for me in these clothes like waiting for a lover," he snarled and released one wrist to jerk open the robe and run a hand down her body. "A beast doesn't make love; a beast fucks." He spat the words with such anger.

She searched his face so filled with grief and loneliness. Her heart beat with steady calmness to be strong for him because he was falling apart. Stroking his cheek, she needed to spare him from the pain in whatever way possible. "I know you're lashing out to push me away because you're hurting. You wouldn't hurt or frighten me." Her voice carried no stronger than a whisper, and yet it was like it shattered him. "No matter how upset you are, I know you'd be gentle."

The anger dissipated. His lips pressed together as his face crumpled. And then he sank to his knees, taking her heart down with him. He held onto her hips and leaned his forehead against her belly, despair rippling from him in massive, drowning waves.

Cradling his head, she swallowed hard as a tear fell from her lashes. There was more - he carried so much shame that kept him silent and suffering alone. "I love you, Jason." She ran her fingers through his silky hair and pressed a kiss to those black locks. "I wish you would tell me what's going on. I'm right here and not going to leave."

* * *

The next morning, she woke up to an empty bed. His sheets were cool beside her. He'd not spoken a single word last night but had avoided any physical contact - besides brushing a kiss over her hand before rolling away and going to sleep.

She got up and padded back to her own room to dress. Then she wandered downstairs where he stood behind his desk packing a briefcase. "Are you going somewhere?" Her heart beat faster. He wore a tie, which only occurred on Mondays for Mass and board meetings. Dread plunked like a rock in her stomach.

"The Foundation. I'll be gone for a few days." He didn't even look up.

Something in his tone sounded like he was going to the guillotine. "I can grab my laptop and work from an empty office or - "

He shook his head, closed the suitcase, and swept past with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you in three days."

She caught his hand. "Jason, please talk to me. You're hurting and I don't understand why. Let me come with you."

The man still seemed unable to look her in the eye. "Thank you but it's best if you don't come." He squeezed her hand and disappeared out the door.

Staring in surprise for a moment, she raced after him. But the car was gone. Pulling out her phone, she punched out a text message. The phone chirped before she hit Send.

 _Forgive me for blowing up at you last night. I don't want you to think this is me running away from you because of that. It's about the Foundation. I'm...I'm having a hard time facing you and I'm taking the coward's way out by not telling you why yet. I beg you to not come to California - I wouldn't be able to bear the shame I'd bring you. I'm sure by the time I return you'll have heard it in the news. Whatever you decide when I get back, I'll respect it._

 _I love you,_

 _J_

His phone went to voicemail, so she texted.

 _I don't know what you're talking about. I'll love you no matter what. You promised we wouldn't have walls like this, that you would trust me even when your head says not to. You're spooked and I think it has to do with the tabloids. I know it seems like the world is turning on you again and things are spinning out of control. They're preventing you from seeing me. Close your eyes and hold out your hand. I'm right here; I haven't moved, Jason._

 _I love you, Emma._

No further reply came. She swept through the house and found Trudy dusting her office. "What is this about?" she demanded. "What decision that I'll make?"

Trudy looked at her with big eyes. "I beg your pardon." Trudy read the text on the phone while she paced. "I don't know." Then Trudy handed the phone back and looked at her with huge eyes.

The next hour may as well have been a hundred years for Pete's return from driving to the airport. The man looked glum and weary when he stepped through the door.

She shot up from her seat on the stairs and rushed forward with a suitcase, her stomach eating itself inside-out. "Pete, something's wrong and he's going to the Foundation, but he said for me not to come. I think he needs me there. Take me to the airport. He is being so damn stoic and stubborn." She jerked on her coat.

Pete didn't move. "We're not going to the airport." The words fell flat and depressed at their feet. He ran a hand over his face and looked ill when she blinked. "I heard bits of his phone conversation in the car. I shouldn't say, but..." Pete pulled off his scarf and it hung from his hand to dangle limp on the floor. "Emma, he's drowning and there's nothing for us to do but watch." His shoulders slumped in despair.

Trudy bustled out from the kitchen and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "What's going on? Dr. Port hasn't at all been like himself since returning home, don'tcha know."

The man seemed hesitant.

"Go on, Pete. We're all family. What did you hear?" she coaxed.

His eyes rose to hers, as if heartbroken over what he'd heard in the car. "From what I could gather, investors are threatening to back out because of the shitty stunt the media pulled. A meeting was called...he's resigning as CEO."

"What?!" Trudy screeched.

The room dipped. "They're forcing him to resign?" Oh god, the resignation alone would devastate him, but compounding it with the media and public shame...it'd damage what confidence he'd gained since the fire. It already was damaging him. There was no one who could save him from this.


	22. Chapter 22

She bit her lip. If she was on the Foundation's board, she could take his fifty-one percent shares and consult with him for how she should vote on issues. Eventually this would all blow over and he could be reinstated. "What time is this meeting?" She trotted into his office and dug around for an appointment book or note.

"In at least a couple hours for him to have time to get there." Pete entered with Trudy as she dug though drawers. "He keeps an electronic calendar."

She dialed his cell, but it went to voicemail. "Jason, if what I think _is_ happening, put me on the board and transfer your shares to me until you get reinstated."

A text came a few minutes later. _The board voted last night. This is a formality now. Please, I need a few days to piece together what dignity is left before coming home._

Tears welled. How could the board not understand the error it was making in losing a great leader? They may as well have stripped and flogged him in the streets with how they were publicly shaming him. She brushed at her eyes and dialed his cell. It went straight to voicemail this time - he must've turned off his phone. It beeped to record a message.

"I know it seems like everyone is turning on you and you're hurting. This isn't right what they're doing." She swallowed hard as the tears spilled over and her voice cracked. If he wasn't going to answer, he deserved to at least hear this. Sinking into his desk chair from the intense heartache that stole her strength, she drew a shakey breath. "Jason, I love you. You're facing this with such grace and dignity like I know I never could. Success doesn't measure a man - it's times like this that define a man. And..." Her lip quivered as her voice broke. "You're still my knight, Jay. I admire you so much. Let me be your wife and best friend who will weather any storm with you. Remember when you said it was a great gift to have someone who would walk through Hell with you? I feel the pain of everything burning up around you, but I'm not leaving without you, Jay. I'm right here. Come home tonight." With a sinking heart, she lowered the phone and hung up.

"I daresay no man would resist a message like that." Pete's thick voice cut through the silence.

She looked up as he brushed at his eyes. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she held her hands over her mouth. Tears dropped. "Why didn't he feel safe enough to tell me yesterday when this was all happening? What am I doing wrong?"

Trudy sniffled and honked her nose into a tissue. "You do a fine job, don'tcha know." Then the woman stepped closer and set a hand on her back. "It's his nature to pull away from everyone when he hurts like a thistled dog. All his life he's been told he 'tisn't good enough. Ya can't change thirty-four years in a few months. He'll come back to you."

Every now and then Trudy had her moments. She only hoped that Trudy was right.

* * *

She glanced at her phone again. Still no word from Jason. Concentrating on work proved to be impossible, so she closed the laptop. Six o'clock. The Foundation meeting had to be over by now. Nerves chewed her stomach.

Looking up the secretary's phone number online, she dialed.

"Charlotte's Foundation. This is Mary Williamson. How may I help you?"

"Mary, it's Emma. Is Jason still there?"

The other end of the line grew quiet. "He is. He...he's in his office writing instructions for everything." Tears warbled Mary's voice. "I can't believe it. Five of the executives and I went into the board meeting and said we'd quit if they did this. Dr. Port told us to stop being stupid and kicked us out."

A sad smile stretched her lips. "I'm sure your support meant a lot to him. I haven't been able to get him to return my calls. How's he doing?"

A tearful, bitter laugh came through the line. "The Apocalypse could happen and he wouldn't let anyone see if it fazed him. He's been holed up in his office. Do you want to see if he'll take your call?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Hold on a moment."

Soft instrumental music filled the silence while on hold for a couple minutes. Tension knotted her stomach. There was so much to say to him, but none of it seemed good enough from a distance. He needed to be here where he could be held and kissed and protected from the viciousness of the world.

"Emma? He wouldn't answer his phone, so I walked down to his office. I got in but when I said it was you, he looked at his laptop and continued working like I hadn't spoken. I'm sorry. I think he's really sad. I'll remind him to call you when he leaves."

With a heartfelt sigh, her shoulders slumped. "Would you tell him to listen to his voicemail? Maybe this all is just temporary until things with the media blow over."

Mary burst into tears. "No, they picked one of the VPs as the new CEO. I don't know how they could just shred him apart like a pack of wolves. Those damn investors are bloodthirsty lowlifes - "

"Ms. Williamson, that's enough." Jason's voice cut in from a distance. "Who is on the phone?" He sounded angry.

"Mrs. Port." Mary's voice came out frustrated. "It's the truth and you can fire me if you don't like it."

Oh dear. Mary must be quite upset because the young woman didn't seem confrontational at all and always tried to please Jason.

"You're not throwing your career out the door because you're distraught." Patience but firmness wove through his tone. "Get off the phone and keep your tongue in cheek."

Silence.

"Ms. Williamson," he warned.

"I quit."

Compassion filled his voice. "Mary, come in my office."

Mary heaved an emotionally charged sigh. "Alright." Then she spoke into the phone. "Bye."

"Bye, Mary." The moment she hung up, her stomach churned again with worry over how he was doing. Not only was he dealing with his own emotions, he had to be strong and smooth over the employees and hand the product of his blood and sweat over to someone who might drive it all into the ground. No one would have as much passion or put in as much work into the Foundation as him.

Dinner remained a solemn affair with Trudy and Pete. Even Prince acted depressed and laid in the foyer instead of under the kitchen table, as if waiting for Jason to come home. And still no word from Jason.

* * *

She laid in bed and stared at the golden glow dancing on the ceiling from the fire to warm her room. The empty ache inside had grown almost unbearable. One o'clock in the morning and not a single word from him. Apparently the voicemail hadn't been enough to bring him back. Rolling onto her side, she cuddled the pillow, missing his warmth and safety. Tears pooled under her cheek.

Today had been so horribly painful watching him be beaten and tortured without a single thing she could do to save him. A hole had formed in her heart throughout the day, and now it bled - a wide and gaping wound. Eventually he would come home, but he wouldn't be the same. The media had been sure to smash what confidence and dignity that had been left to him - the picture of his face and story of being kicked out as CEO had been splattered all over the Internet and media, according to Trudy and Pete. She had avoided the Internet, television, and radio, neither wanting to hear the slurs against the beautiful man nor betray his trust in seeing his face.

If she ever saw the scars that shamed him so deeply, it would be on his terms and in the sanctuary of the bedroom where she could prove that scars didn't wane her desire or love for him. It would be special and romantic and safe for him. If every other soul in the world turned on him, he would know without a doubt that one was still willingly bound to him for eternity.

She sniffled and brushed at the tears, reaching for her phone on the nightstand.

 _Jason, come home. I can't stop crying. I'm worried about you and miss you._

 _Love,_

 _Em_

He wouldn't respond, but maybe he'd see the text. Knowing him, he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight either with how upset he had to be.

Maybe something warm like hot chocolate made with milk would make sleep come and end this terrible day. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe, slipping the cell phone in her pocket. Prince remained sound asleep, so she headed downstairs.

The house creaked and groaned. She peeked out the window in the kitchen while the pan of milk warmed up. A cold February wind whipped the trees. Shrugging off the nervousness, she scooped the hot chocolate into a mug.

Bang. She jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. Something knocked against the side of the house. A tree blew outside the window and a branch scratched. Holding a hand over her heart, she released a tense breath. Just the wind.

She poured the milk into the mug, her hands still shaking. It had been months since a nightmare about Gaston. She blinked - that was a random, odd, and creepy thought in the middle of the night. The stress of the day and nervousness made the imagination too wild. Yes, that was it. Her nerves still sat on edge.

Click, click, click. The noise echoed in the foyer.

She froze, her blood running cold. It grew closer. Oh god. Someone was there. The gait didn't sound like Trudy's or Pete's. It came quick. Air wouldn't pass her lips, every sense zeroed in on the danger. Pete was upstairs and the house was so big he might not hear a scream. It was Gaston. He'd come to fulfill his twisted promise that still haunted her nightmares. The hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. Rushing blood drowned everything out. Snatching a knife from the drawer, she whipped around just as the clicking hit the kitchen tile. Her heart stopped.

Prince stood in the kitchen doorway and wagged his tail. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth with excitement for a midnight snack. He walked into the kitchen, his nails clicking on the floor.

Her chest heaved as her heart started beating again. Her hands and the knife trembled. Tears of relief blurred everything as she set down the knife on the counter. "Goddammit, Prince." The terror had been so horrifyingly consuming. She sank down to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog's neck. Frightened tears streamed down her face.

The house creaked. She and Prince jumped. Sucking it up and facing the fears was the only way to get over this terror of Gaston. She picked up the mug with a shaking hand and sat at the kitchen table. Something slammed into the window. She screamed and ran after Prince, who already tore up the stairs. At the first landing, the lights went out. Pitch blackness enveloped.

Oh shit. Gaston. He'd cut the power so no one would see him coming. She fumbled for the phone in her pocket to use the light and find Pete. The darkness stole all sense of direction. A door creaked. Spinning around, the blood froze in her veins.

Someone opened the front door and a male silhouette stepped inside, flicking on a small flashlight.

Gaston. Every muscle paralyzed. The scream lodged in her throat. Her chest heaved, unable to draw air. Oh god. No. Tears ran down. Footsteps climbed the stairs. Jason wasn't here to stop him this time. Pete wouldn't hear Gaston drag her into a room and torture her to death.

No, it was her imagination. She snatched the phone out of her pocket and flicked on the flashlight mode. It was in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. There'd be nothing there. It was imagined like the other times with Jason. Her heart slammed. It wasn't real.

The stair creaked and flexed - the one she stood on. Her eyes shot open and she whipped the flashlight up. Someone stood there. A bloodcurdling, horrified scream ripped out of her throat. A skin-toned blob floated in the air amid the blackness right before the blob whipped around and a startled blue eye looked at her just as she dropped the phone and scrambled back.

She tripped herself and plopped onto the next staircase. Her mind froze in terror, trying to grasp what it had just seen.

The intruder's flashlight fell to the floor.

As the terror let go, the fragmented images pieced together. A blue eye. The head hadn't been floating - the body had been covered in a black suit. The blob had been scarred flesh reflecting the light. Her mouth ran dry. Oh dear god. It had been Jason.

She scrambled to her feet and snatched her light. He was gone. His phone laid abandoned on the steps. "Jason?" Her hands still shook from the adrenaline. Sweeping the light down the steps, she searched for a form amid the blackness. Car tires squealed on the wet pavement outside.

Her heart stumbled. He was leaving. She flew down the steps and out the open front door into the pouring rain. "Jason!" Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up a taxi that disappeared around the corner of the winding driveway. "Jaaasoooon!" Her scream tore through the trees, but a crack of thunder swallowed it up. The cold rain pelted and plastered her hair to her face, drenching her nightgown and robe.

God, no. Please, no. He'd think she'd screamed because of his face - now, when he was so alienated and hurt already. This would destroy him. Tears ran down to mingle with the raindrops as she sank to her hands and knees in the driveway.

Her finger bumped a button on the phone and it lit up with a text message just received a couple minutes ago.

 _I'm coming, Emma. Got your voicemail this afternoon. I can't do this without you. I'll be there in a few minutes. Miss you._

 _I love you,_

 _J_

"No," she whimpered, his message more heartbreaking than ever. And he'd left his phone behind, leaving no way to contact him. He was running and thought everyone had turned on him. She cradled the phone against her chest. Gut-wrenching sobs bled from her heart in the cold rainy night.


	23. Chapter 23

She drifted on the edge of consciousness in bed. Someone watched. Opening her eyes, she startled over the silhouette that sat on the edge of the bed.

He shot near the door, either to not frighten her or be frightened by her.

Her heart skipped a beat. It had been two days since anyone had heard from him. She sat up. A thousand things to say and nowhere as the perfect place to start. The man simply stood in the shadows of the dying firelight without a word. "Jason - "

But he turned and swept back through the connecting door. The latch clicked.

Tears welled. He wasn't angry, he was too hurt to stay. She ran to the door and tried the knob, already knowing it would be locked. "Jason, listen," she begged. "I couldn't sleep that night. I went downstairs and heard the house creaking and got scared. The power went out, and I started having a panic attack thinking Gaston had done it." The tears ran down. "I saw someone come in the house and I was so terrified. I was sure it was just a panic attack and not real. It scared me that someone was actually there. It wasn't because of you."

Silence.

The tears fell. "Please, let me in." She laid a hand against the cold wood. Several seconds passed. The floorboard creaked in his room, as if he shifted his weight. "Please, I love you. I would never do that to you. Please." Her voice broke.

The light under his door extinguished.

Sinking down to the floor and leaning against the doorframe, she pulled the nightgown over her knees to keep warm. Pain pulsed from his room. Holding a hand over her mouth, she muffled the sobs. If this was the closest he'd let her to comfort him, she'd sleep on the floor every night.

* * *

She woke up the next morning in bed. Jason must've come back and tucked her in. That had to be a good sign. Throwing on clothes as fast as possible, she hurried out of her room. Jason's bedroom door sat open, so she peeked in. No sign that he'd been there. "Jason?" Crossing in to the bathroom, she stopped. A piece of broken mirror dangled from the wall, the rest of it shattered in the sink. What had she done to him?

She hurried downstairs, her pulse racing. Prince wasn't in the bedrooms - he must be with Jason. That meant Jason would still be in the house. Several rooms revealed nothing.

Trudy and Pete bustled around the kitchen. Prince sat near the island looking for scraps, and the hope of finding Jason fell flat. "Is he home?"

Trudy looked up in surprise and then a sad expression dulled her eyes. "No, he left for the day. He asked that no one bother him if it's not an emergency."

The bottom of her stomach gave out. She deserved his absences after what she'd done. Guilt and grief would complete her broken heart soon enough. Sitting at the table, she stared at the floor. Every ounce of misery was welcomed pain. He deserved a better wife than this. Two weeks into the marriage and she'd damaged everything.

He didn't come back that night or the next. Five days passed, including Valentine's Day, without a word from him beyond Trudy's reassurance that he was safe. Crying to the point of exhaustion at night became the only way sleep would come. The nightmares of Gaston returned with fierce vengeance each night. The only relief from them were the nightmares of reliving seeing Jason's face. Each time the dream progressed through the same events, and each time she fought to not scream in the dream. The right side of his face remained a fuzzy blur. Each time the dream ended with finding him in the arboretum, dead from a broken heart.

Work performance slid - her mind more often than not falling into a blank state just to escape the agony. She didn't dare have the arrogance to contact Jason when he didn't want it.

* * *

"A monkey in France, how can you see anything?" Trudy flipped on the office light.

She squinted and glanced out the window. The sun had set long ago. "Lovely, I missed my deadline." She woke up the work laptop and started punching in numbers on the spreadsheet. Trudy stood on the opposite side of the desk with hands folded behind her back. "What, Trudy?"

"Um, Dr. Port sent a message." Embarrassment tinted Trudy's voice.

With a frown, she looked up.

Trudy's face turned five shades of red. "He asked if your time came yet."

Dropping her eyes back to the screen, she bit her lip. Things had been so stressful that being a week late had gone unnoticed. Even if there was a baby, which was highly unlikely, she wouldn't trap him into coming back. "Tell him he's in the clear."

Trudy set a pregnancy test box on the desk. "He wouldn't be worried about being in the clear, don'tcha know." Her voice held compassion and worry. "You aren't a good liar. You don't eat much and look so exhausted all the time."

For some reason, that flipped a switch. "Maybe it's because of the nightmares - " she snapped and then clamped her mouth shut.

"Nightmares?"

"Nevermind." She resumed typing in the computer. "Tell him there's nothing he needs to concern himself with."

"But - "

"Don't you say a word to him." She slammed the laptop shut and stood without looking at Trudy. "He hates me so much that he won't even come home. Don't you dare guilt him into otherwise." Then she swept out of the room before Trudy could see the tears spill over.

After dinner, she sat in the library window seat and stared out at the cold, starry night sky, too exhausted to cry again before bed.

Pete walked in and sat down. "Trudy asked me to talk to you. If you are in the family way, it's important to be on prenatal vitamins." He held the pregancy test box in his hand. "Dr. Port said you can take it - "

She shot up and snatched the box, even though gentle prodding served as Pete's only crime. "Jesus, he needs proof right now?"

"What? He said - "

But she stormed out before he finished.

Even knowing it would be negative, it still hurt to see the test result. The glimmer of hope of having a baby, of having a piece of Jason, fizzled out. Sticking the test in the box, she roughly brushed away the tears and whipped open the bathroom door.

Pete stood there with a sad look.

She shoved the box at him. "Tell him he can stop worrying." Then she hurried upstairs to her room.

At bedtime, the cramping started. And she mourned all over again for what she'd never had.

* * *

At midnight, something woke her up. A tall, familiar silhouette stood near the foot of the bed, his back facing the fire.

Sitting up, she pulled the sheets higher, never feeling as ashamed and ugly and barren as right now. "I gave Pete the test." She couldn't bear to look at him and see distain in his eye. "It's not a false negative - there's blood proof, if you're looking for that." There'd be no other reason why he'd have come.

He didn't move and kept his hands folded behind his back. "I asked Ms. Van Hoodie to pass along the message that if you took the test, I would be with you while waiting for the results." Compassion filled his voice.

If only he meant it. Then he would've been there to cry on when it'd been negative. The pain and lack of sleep over the past week made a wall shoot up to protect from any more damage. "Well, now you don't have to endure ten minutes with me and you got the result you wanted."

Several moments of silence passed. "I was hoping for a different result." His voice softened.

A heartbroken, choked laugh escaped and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to force back the tears. "Don't worry, I'll consent to artificial insemination or adoption. You won't have to stomach another bedding." Then she got out of bed and pulled on her robe.

He blocked her path to the door but didn't touch. "I never said that. Why are you being so cold?" His voice remained calm.

She turned her face up to his silhouette, no longer caring if he saw the broken pieces left behind. "I don't know how a woman is supposed to act when her husband hates her so much he won't come home for days."

His head pulled back, as if surprised. "I do not hate you. Did it occur that perhaps I was so ashamed that it took that many days to even be able to speak to you?"

The anger died on her lips.

"Ms. Van Hoodie advised that you weren't eating much and looked exhausted. When it was confirmed that there is no pregnancy, I wanted to see for myself if you're well. If that hadn't given a boost of courage, it might've taken me another week to come."

She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill in the air. And the heartache. Perhaps it was all a colossal misunderstanding. "Did you hear me that I didn't scream because of you?"

"I did."

So much relief washed over like a flood. Things would be alright. She reached to hug him. And he took a step back. That punch to the gut would've doubled her over if it hadn't been so shocking. Swallowing hard, she took a step back and held herself to keep from breaking. Her eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered before her throat squeezed shut.

Only the crackle of the fire answered.

"Will you ever let me touch you again?"

"Good night." He croaked out the words and disappeared through the connecting door. The lock turned.

It took a long time to drag her cold, numb body to bed.

* * *

There was no sign of him all day. She stepped out of the shower and into the empty bedroom in a towel that night. Another lonely night. Pulling a nightgown out of the dresser, she dropped the towel at her ankles.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end - she wasn't alone. She glanced over her shoulder and startled, nearly falling into the dresser.

Jason stood across the room near the connecting door. "My apologies, Mrs. Port." The words purred from his lips.

She straightened, holding the nightgown against her front for modesty. Shivers skittered down her spine as he said her new name in that tone. Then she frowned. He only called her by a formal name when angry or amused. He seemed neither. Biting her lip, she stared at the floor during the awkward silence.

"Don't let me interrupt."

Her cheeks burned. She slowly released the nightgown and pulled it on. His hungry gaze seared. "Is that what you came for?" The words came out soft and self-conscious.

"If I had, I assure you that wouldn't satisfy me."

Her mouth ran dry.

He crossed over to the bed and laid a rose on it. "I realized I missed Valentine's Day." Then he straightened and folded his hands behind his back, stepping back into the shadows.

The rose laughed and mocked her. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wished to."

She ran a hand through her damp hair, the words just about killing her. "You don't have to pretend..." Her voice faltered. He didn't even love her anymore.

"I'm not. I do mean it."

Her eyes flew to him, unable to see any hint of his expression in the shadows. "Come back to bed." The nights were so painful, so terrifying without him. A tear splashed into her bare foot.

He turned and closed the door.

She shot across the room and grabbed the doorknob...just as it locked. Leaning her forehead against the cold wood, she didn't fight the tears. "I wish you'd just beat me," she whispered. "It would hurt so much less." Then she went to bed and cried herself to sleep.

 _Gaston climbed off her. The pain unbearable as she laid in her own blood. Then a smile slithered across his face as he pulled out a knife. "We'll see how he likes your new look, ugly bitch."_

 _She was too weak to fight and too far lost to hopelessness. The tears of pain and grief rolled down from the corners of her eyes. "He isn't going to come for me."_

 _Gastons cruel laughter filled the air...until he plunged a knife in her belly and her scream drowned him out._

"Emma!" Someone shook her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open and she screamed in horror as Gaston's silhouette hovered. She scrambled back against the headboard, her body shaking so hard it made it impossible to breathe.

He shot back several feet and held up a hand. "It's me, Emma."

Jason. The terrified tears cursed down, and her chest heaved to fight for air.

"Emma, you're having a panic attack. Deep breaths." He took a step closer.

She tried to calm down and scooted back, the humiliation complete of him seeing what a nutcase she was without him. Grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, she squeezed. Diverting the adrenaline to focus on something physical had seemed to cease the panic attacks every other night. Her heart slowed down enough to make speech possible. "I should sleep in my old room so I don't wake you." Standing on shakey legs, she grabbed her pillow and turned.

He blocked her path. "Are you having nightmares again?" Anger and worry strengthened his voice.

When she tried to sidestep him, he blocked her again. Keeping her head down, she shook it in a lie.

"You will remain in this room, understood?" That tone had no patience for argument. She didn't respond. "Jesus, did Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie know about this?"

"I'm not two," she whispered. Oh god, how she needed to throw herself in his arms so he could chase away the monsters that peeked out of the shadows, that waited for him to leave so they could resume their twisted pleasures.

"You're so damn stubborn," he growled.

Fresh tears started. A hug, a touch...anything and the demons wouldn't come back tonight. They always came in twos, the second nightmare always more violent. And then the third would happen near sunrise - the most horrible of all because Jason would be dead in it.

"Do you want me to stay while you fall asleep?"

She shook her head. He couldn't stand to be near her for more than a couple minutes at a time. It wasn't right to make him stay.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to his room. This time, he left the connecting door cracked open.

She slipped out the hallway door and padded to her old room in the north wing. Prince followed. Then she closed the door and got in bed.

The demons found her and performed their torture twice more that night.

* * *

The next evening, she went to her old room again. The exhaustion was becoming unbearable and made functioning through the day almost impossible. She let Prince up on the foot of the bed. Maybe him being closer would deter the monsters tonight.

Someone knocked. She got up and opened the door.

Pete stood there. "Dr. Port said to take you back to your room."

A bitter, almost insane laugh bubbled up. "He should be glad. He can take any woman he wants and I'll be none the wiser."

"Emma, he wouldn't do that. He's worried about you."

"Clearly," she snorted. "He won't even stay in the same room for two minutes, and he refuses to touch me. If it wasn't for his goddamn honor, he'd have thrown me out with the trash." The pain finally unleashed. "I'd be doing him a favor if I died. He probably wouldn't even notice."

"And you might very well be in your way there if you don't start eating and sleeping!" he snapped.

"That's enough, Stevens." Jason's voice cut through the darkness in the hall and he stepped forward.

Now she did want to curl up in a hole and die. Pete left and Jason took his place in the doorway. Her eyes dropped to his chest.

"I wouldn't want to live if you died. I'm not trying to punish you." His weight shifted on his feet in an uncharacteristic display of self-consciousness. "I can't explain how hard it is to face you - that is why I don't stay long."

Her eyes flew up to his face masked in the shadows of the hallway. "Why?" she breathed. A tiny flicker of hope glimmered.

"You can't tell me that part of you wasn't afraid of what you saw. You are so frightened when you see me - you didn't use to do that, Emma."

She searched the darkness. "I didn't used to have multiple nightmares every night that are so graphic." Her voice flowed soft and sad. "I'm scared all the time."

He slipped back a step. "I'm wearing the black ski mask."

The fact that he remembered the black mask at night scared her and that gave warning made it less scary. The fact that he backed up, dropped a ton of bricks on her. She backed up a step, the gut-wrenching pain too hard to handle.

"Come back to your room."

She shook her head and reached a hand out to hold the wall when the gesture made the room tilt. He was acting on pity, pushing himself when he didn't want to.

"That's not a request. You look ill, Emma. We'll give you a half dose of something to help you sleep."

She didn't want drugs - she wanted him. Being held in his arms would bring peaceful sleep. Her heart beat faster in distress. The room spun and her legs buckled.

Strong arms caught and lifted her. His heart beat strong and steady under her ear as spots monopolized her vision. "You're exhausted and probably dehydrated. Prince, come," he commanded. His body swayed in a gentle rhythm as he walked.

She laid a hand on his chest and held onto his shirt, not wanting to let him go. Her eyes closed, his warmth summoning sleepiness. Just before she succumbed, his words drifted through the fog.

"Forgive me, Emma," he whispered. "I didn't know I was making you ill." Then a kiss pressed against the top of her head.

She started to drift back toward consciousness when he laid her in bed, but it was like swimming through gravy, the effort too much.

"Oh cheese and flowers, did she faint?" Trudy's voice drifted through a long tunnel.

"Almost. She's asleep now." He pulled up the covers and tucked her in. "How long has it been since she's eaten or drank?"

"She doesn't take more than a bite or two at meals, don'tcha know. The poor thing barely sips too. She's been eating about as much as you are, sir."

"Why wasn't I told she was getting ill and having nightmares?" Firm displeasure wove through the words.

Trudy's voice came quiet and soft. "We didn't know about the nightmares until yesterday. She stays holed up so much that it's hard to take notice if she's ill, don'tcha know. May I be blunt, sir?"

"You always are," he muttered and brushed a lock of hair from her brow. The edge of the bed shifted, as if he sat.

"I think you're both heartbroken. She's a slip of a thing and getting ill first, but you're not far behind if you don't start eating and sleeping like the cows too. I outta lock you both in a room together - "

"And be fired," he filled in.

"If only I had a dime for each time I heard that, sir." Trudy's voice lightened.

"Fetch my bag and then leave us alone, please." The man practically growled.

When Trudy's footsteps returned and left, his bag rustled as though he dug inside. "Emma?" He rubbed her arm.

It took a minute to swim through the haze. Her eyes fluttered open.

He held a glass of milk. "There's a bit of sleeping med in here, just enough to keep away the nightmares for tonight." His arm slipped around and helped raise her up a bit.

Didn't he understand that just him being here kept away the monsters? She took the glass and sipped, her body heavy and resistant to do anything but sleep now that he was here.

A few minutes later, his voice cut through the silence. "Emma." He caught the glass as it began to slip from her hands and her eyes closed.

She blinked hard, the ski mask swimming into view.

"Oh dear, you're a lightweight, aren't you?" He eased the glass from her hand and eased her down.

A soft mumble came out when she tried to ask him to stay.

"It's the drug, Emma. Let sleep come." Gentleness and protectiveness filtered through his tone.

She dragged her hand over his on the bed, but every muscle grew heavy and too unresponsive to hold his hand. Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried again to speak. A soft whimper came out.

"You're safe," he whispered and held her hand. "I'll watch over you."

He was staying.

She gave up the fight and let oblivion come.

* * *

Trudy sat in a chair beside the bed when she woke up with a pounding headache. "Here, drink water like a camel. He left at sunrise. Thank Jesus it's Saturday because he said you might feel a bit groggy, poor dear." Trudy helped her sit up to take a drink.

A knock came at the connecting door.

The woman bustled around the room and drew all the thick drapes shut. Then Trudy opened the door and slipped out as Jason stepped in and closed the door.

In the dark room, everything blurred worse even when she blinked harder.

"Fuzzy vision is an adverse side effect. It should go away as the day goes on." His form moved closer and sat in Trudy's vacant chair. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Like I was drugged."

"My apologies. I didn't expect you to react so strongly to less than a half dose. We know not to use sleeping pills again." The edge of the bed shifted. "You won't like this, but let me check how much is still in your system." The light from his phone, covered by the edge of the white sheet to dull it, swept over her eyes.

She blinked hard at the blinding light. It left bright white imprints for a few moments, obscuring all vision.

He sighed. "Your eyes are still extremely dilated. You can't see much at all, can you?"

"Blobs of color...when it's not dark." Why on earth the man would darken the room was beyond her.

"I'm not wearing a mask."

Her heart beat faster. The length of this conversation left the others the past week in the dust, and he didn't seem inclined to end it. And he had the courage to come without any mask. "Why?"

His voice grew tense. "In my hurry to leave the house last week in the dark, I ran into the doorframe. A bruise developed. The scar tissue is not normal skin and couldn't handle it."

There was more to it than that, but he didn't seem to want to say. "Do you have to go see a specialist?" Her brow furrowed. When he remained silent, she reached out in her obscured vision to touch him but bumped his arm.

He caught her wrist and eased her hand away.

Something in her chest twisted. "You already went by yourself." The words choked in her throat and her gaze dropped to her hands. "Did...did you have surgery? Is that why you were gone for so many days?" Of course he had no obligation any longer to abide by the agreement of telling her beforehand of any surgeries. And that hurt.

"No surgery."

But he had been in the hospital most likely while she'd had no idea. The bed shifted and his silhouette faded in amongst the shadows, although his footsteps creaked the floorboards. "Good day." Then the door closed - right on her heart.

Not having anywhere else to turn, she picked up the phone later. "Nana? It's Emma." And then she burst into tears.

"Emmie, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" The comfort of Nana's warbly voice let the floodgates open full force.

Once she sobbed out the story, Nana remained silent for a moment. "Emmie, stop those tears. He doesn't hate you, and stop saying he should divorce you. It's as clear as a bell that he loves you. Why else would he have taken care of you last night or given you the rose or come to talk at night?"

"Because he feels obligated - "

"Stop it right now, girl. Those are his best attempts to try to fix things. He's humiliated, and a man's pride is his own worst enemy. You're going about this all wrong."

"What do you mean?" She sniffled and tried to rein in the tears.

"Woo him."

"What? He can't even stand being in the same room - "

"Do you have blinders on? Emmie, he's trying to come back, he's just so lost. He was testing the water by coming in without the mask to see if you'd react aversely. He doesn't know whether to believe your story of having screamed from the terror of a man or the scars. If I was there, I'd give you a good wallop on the behind with my cane to focus on so you'd stop fixating on the sting in your heart. Pursue him."

"Nana, the last thing he wants is my attentions."

"Just shut up and do what I say, Emmie. I haven't been in this world eighty years and been left stupid. JJ takes his cues from you and sees a miserable woman. He probably thinks he should divorce _you_ for _your_ sake. The first overtures must be subtle so as not to spook him. And for heaven's sake, stop trying to touch him. He will come to you faster than you think. A month from now, I want a call saying I'm going to be a great-Nana. No, I want that fancy man of yours to bring you out here so I can hear it in person and see your pretty glow."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Nana, there's no way things will be that much better in a month."

"Girlie, if I didn't know what a whip-smart head you have, I'd think you're dumber than a box of rocks right now. Now, you go put food in that belly so you can make some strong babies and then woo that man's socks off."

"What if he doesn't - "

"Emmie, stop." Nana's voice took on a motherly tone. "Your own worst enemy is your head, not him. He's aching for you. What is there left to lose if it doesn't work? I thought you'd fight for him."

"I would but - "

"But nothin'. Get off the phone, eat, and go win back your man." Her tone firmed.

"Nana?" Her voice came out timid and small. "I'm scared."

"I know you are, Emmie. Marriage isn't a walk in the park always, but I promise it's worth it. Tell me the scariest thing in your life before this."

She blinked and frowned. "Gaston."

"That's right. You were strong enough to get through that monkeyshit's shit. You can get through this misunderstanding with a man who loves you."

For the first time in days, a hint of a smile tugged. "It sounds so easy."

"Does it? Hm, I thought it sounded merely doable."

It was easy to picture Nana's knowing smile. "Nana, I think the FBI should recruit you for your reverse psychology."

"I could work with you. And if any of those arrogant pricks give you a hard time again, I've got my cane, Emmie."

She laughed. "Nana? Thanks."

"Of course, my Emmie. Go get him."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up and released a huge sigh, her heart a thousand pounds lighter. Anything seemed possible.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Merry Christmas!**

* * *

Grabbing some toast and juice, she went up to the arboretum with Prince at her heels and eager for crumbs. The birds chirped and the perfume of the roses wafted under the sunlight filtering in. The vibrant colors and beauty of this place never failed to steal her breath. Pocketing the shears from Jason's gardening toolkit near the door, she ate the last bit of toast and threw Prince the corner edge that he gobbled up in a split second. Then he tore off to chase a bird while she sipped juice from her glass and wandered the path.

Jason kept everything meticulous and pruned to perfection. Even in winter, dozens and dozens of roses filled every bush. The ones that had struggled last spring now grew full and strong. Anything under Jason's care would thrive. One red rose just beginning to bloom stood out on the side of a bush. It would blossom wider than her hand in a day or two. That was the perfect one to give him. Setting the cup of juice on the stone path, she pulled out the shears and cut the stem at an angle near a leaf, like how she'd seen him do. Then she picked up her cup and new treasure. "Come on, Prince!"

His office was empty, so she set the rose on his desk and wrote a note.

 _I read once that your heart is as big as your fist. Right now this rose is as big as mine, but it will be bigger by tomorrow. Today it is my heart; tomorrow it will be like how much love fills that heart. I love you._

 _Happy Valentine's Day,_

 _Emma_

Now came the waiting. Pushing too fast would ring insincere. So she slipped into her office to catch up on some work.

* * *

That night, she sat in her room in his grandmother's chair near the window and sketched under the bright light of the moon. The room grew chilly without a fire, but he wouldn't be able to come in without the mask if lights brightened the room. She pulled a blanket over herself and continued sketching. It neared midnight and he still hadn't come. Perhaps the rose had been too much of a push. Or maybe Nana was wrong and he wanted nothing to do with her.

A soft rap came from the connecting door, and her heart took off. He stepped in but didn't come closer, trapped by the moonlight. "Good evening."

"Hi." She held her breath and sat up, wanting nothing more than to run to him.

"I found the rose and note. Thank you." The words didn't come out as strong as usual, either softened by emotion or disinterest.

She held the back of the chair, ready to rush over at any sign of being welcomed. "I wasn't sure if I should find you today or not. You never finished telling me last night if you're alright. I know you don't like to talk about it, and you have no obligation to tell me anything but..." Swallowing hard and bracing for rejection, she pushed the words out before losing courage. "I'm worried. I'm guessing you were in the hospital last week..." His silhouette remained still and silent, and her courage faded. She let go of the chair back and bit her lip. Her gaze dropped to the moonlight spanning across the floor - a division that may as well have been a world apart.

"The hospitalization was no more than a twenty-four hour observation as a precaution. There was talk of surgery if things got worse. I would've called if that was the final decision, like we agreed." Quiet patience and hesitation colored his words.

So he had been hospitalized, preferring to do it alone than have her support. Perhaps he hadn't been confident of her support and couldn't handle a rejection."I would've come." She stood and closed the drape to the window that kept him trapped. Then she sat in hopes that he might come closer.

"I know," he whispered.

Yet he still had chosen to keep her in the dark. The awkward silence weighed heavily. Things didn't used to be this way. "Do you need me to get more bandages or medicine or anything from the store?"

"No, but thank you." He stepped up beside the bed but remained a couple meters away from her chair. "It's cold in here." Then he turned toward the fireplace.

"No!" She stood and tossed aside the blanket to stop him, but he stilled and shifted as if he looked over his shoulder. Resisting the urge to step forward, she anchored her feet to give him the distance. "I didn't light it so you could come."

His silhouette turned to face her. "You didn't?" The surprise was apparent.

She wrapped her arms around herself, reluctant to move to even get the blanket lest this fragile bond forming snap like a taught chord.

He came closer, the floorboards creaking under his feet. Then he bent down to pick up the blanket and draped it around her shoulders.

Taking the ends of it from his hands, she pulled the blanket closed and turned her face up to the shadows. The moonlight from the far window on the other side of the room behind her glinted in his eye ever so faint. His woodsy scent filled her nose. His heat wrapped around her heart even warmer than this blanket.

His hands drifted away. "Are you feeling better?"

Sweet, hot breath caressed her face. "I am," she whispered. "Thank you for staying all night. Did you get in some sleep?"

"I did." His voice grew husky. "I'll leave the door open a bit tonight if you have nightmares again."

It was a lie - he knew as well as her that the nightmares would come again and she wouldn't go to him. He was leaving it open so he would hear and come to her. But if he stayed, the dreams wouldn't come.

"Staying would bring you worse nightmares," he said, as if reading her question. "I'll come when you need me."

She cocketed her head in confusion.

"Goodnight, Emma." An intimacy tinted his voice like it hadn't in days.

"Goodnight." She bit her lip as he crossed the room. He didn't explain exactly what was wrong that he'd been in the hospital, and who knew how many times he'd go back before he'd tell her. When he reached the door, her heart beat faster and she clutched the blanket. "Jason?"

He turned.

"Will you tell me if you have to go to the hospital again?" The thumping in her chest threatened to break free. Everything dangled on his next words.

"I will, Emma." Then he slipped out and left the door cracked a hair.

 _Jason lay sprawled on his back in the arboretum, his face as white as his shirt. His chest rose, weak and sporadic as the life drained from his broken heart._

 _The world stopped. She tore through the roses to get to him, but the bushes grew thicker with each step and the thorns sliced and caught her clothes to hold her back. "NO! Jason! Jason!" She clawed at the branches, tearing apart her hands to get to him. "I'm right here! I love you! Hold on!" she screamed in such pure terror at losing him._ _The words escaped her lips without sound no matter how loud she screamed._

 _His chest rose one last time and then stilled._

 _"Noooo! Jason!" Blood drenched her clothes and thorns embedded in her flesh as she threw herself through the last of the vines. Slamming onto the stone path on her hands and knees, her weight drove in the thorns. But her eyes didn't leave his limp body._

 _She scrambled to his body that was as ice cold as if lifeless for hours. Gut-wrenching sobs ripped from her soul as she cradled his head in her lap and draped herself over his body. Her mouth fell open in a sob so deep that no sound came forth. And then her grief-stricken cries echoed through the mountains._

She shot awake with a jerk.

"Shhh, it's a dream," a deep, smooth baritone soothed. A warm hand reached from the chair and caught hers.

A half-gasp, half-sob burst out as she cradled Jason's hand, needing reassurance that this was real. Every muscle trembled with grief as the tears poured out.

"Emma?"

The pain. The grief. The fear. The emotions were as real as if he had actually died; part of her mind terrified that this part was the dream. Scrambling out of bed, she climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as much as possible through the violent trembling. Sobs wracked her body, even his arms holding her tight not enough to stop the pain. "I dreamed you died of a broken heart. I couldn't get to you."

He held tight and kissed her hair. "It wasn't real. I'm right here," he cooed and stroked her back. "I'm right here." He pulled her closer to curl up in his lap and rocked her.

* * *

The next morning, she woke up in bed. Having a little more hope from his actions last night, she hopped out of bed and helped Trudy make breakfast. She added eggs to the tray for Jason and dropped a straw in the glass of orange juice

Trudy delivered the meal to him and returned with a smile. "I told him that you made his breakfast. He looked surprised as a chicken, don'tcha know. You sit down and eat too." Trudy returned some time later with an empty tray and a smile. "Dr. Port praised your cooking. He hasn't eaten this much in days. I prayed to Jesus that things would get better, and I think my prayers are bein' answered."

"Crazy woman," Pete grumbled. "A heartbroken man has no appetite. He's simply starting to see that she still loves him."

The woman scowled. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." She made the sign of the cross. "Go say your penance for doubtin' Jesus."

With a smile, she went upstairs, leaving them to argue it out.

A small, square black velvet box lay on her bed. Curious what Jason could possibly want to give at this rocky juncture, she walked over. A letter rested inside with his elegant scrawl.

 _It took quite a bit of searching to find this. I apologize for the delay. Scottish sapphires are unique to the country but very rare being the land has been protected since 1990. It's intended as a momento of our honeymoon._

 _I love you,_

 _Jason_

A soft gasp escaped. A beautiful sapphire ring glittered in the box. Two small diamonds guarded each side, and an intricate Celtic knotting decorated the gold band. It was far too expensive but far too beautiful and precious to not accept. She slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand and cradled it against her heart. Perhaps Nana had been right that things weren't past repair.

* * *

At half midnight he still hadn't arrived. She started a fire, the room freezing at this late hour without heat. A knock came from the connecting door but it didn't open. With a frown of confusion why he didn't just enter, she got up and answered it.

Jason stepped back from the firelight that filtered into his dark room. "Good evening. Are you alright to sleep tonight?" His tone had more crispness to it than usual.

She nodded. "Thank you for the ring. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome. I'll bid you goodnight."

This seemed unusually short for one of his visits. "Are you alright? You don't sound like yourself."

"I'll be fine."

Her brow furrowed and she took a step into the dark room. "Jason?" A knot formed in her stomach.

"The skin ulcered from the bruise and it's become infected this evening. It's being treated but has left a migraine."

"Let me help. A cold cloth and rubbing pressure points on the palms tends to help Mom. I won't stay long, and I won't look."

"No - "

"Please. I know my place if you have to go to the hospital or have surgery."

Silence. "How quick you are to assume that I do not want your presence."

"How quick you are to turn away," she countered.

He opened the door a bit more and took a step back.

She stepped past him to the fireplace. "Get in bed. I'll get a fire going." The man didn't make a peep, which spoke to how terrible he felt. After getting a fire roaring, she wet a washcloth in the bathroom and stepped out. The thick bed curtains had been drawn shut. She slipped between the drapes onto what was supposed to be her spot on the left side of the bed. "Here's a cold rag." SHe reached out to find his hand.

"Thank you." The poor thing sounded miserable. His hand returned to rest on his stomach.

Sitting on her haunches, she took his hand in her lap and began massaging circles on certain spots of his palm.

A soft sigh escaped him.

"Does it help?"

"The pounding is settling to a soft throb." His voice raised not much louder than a whisper. Several moments of silence passed. "Did you have more nightmares afterwards last night?"

"No," she replied softly so as not to disturb his migraine. Something should be said for climbing on him last night when he didn't want physical contact. She bit her lip for a moment. "I'm sorry for that."

"You don't need to apologize. But I woke you from two other nightmares last evening." He seemed to wait for an explanation.

"I don't remember the other two." Perhaps he'd let the topic drop. "Is the migraine better?"

"It's more bearable. Emma, you haven't had nightmares of this magnitude in the time I've known you. What's going on?" So much concern in his voice and he didn't even know he was the cause and cure for the demons coming.

"Goodnight, Jason," she whispered. Then she glided out and quietly closed the connecting door.

* * *

She knocked on the connecting door the next morning to check on him. The door cracked open a bit but he stood behind it. "I just wanted to see if you're feeling better." No answer came, so she opened her mouth to repeat it.

"Stevens went to get the car. The wound is where I can't see. The bandage dried to the site and when he changed it, I couldn't feel the skin tearing as he removed it." A handkerchief covered in blood peeked out for a moment as he readjusted it.

"Oh my god. Jason, let me see." She tried to push in but he held the door fast.

"No, there's not as much blood as it looks. They can apply a mesh bandage and I'll be back in a couple hours."

Pete entered Jason's room through the hall door.

"Pete, help him get covered so I can check this. He'll bleed out before you even get to a hospital." Without waiting for an answer, she darted out of her room and downstairs for ice.

Trudy stood at the island counter in the kitchen with an ice pack. Without a word, she handed it over. "I'll find his medical bag."

She ran upstairs and barged into his room. Jason sat on the bed with a handkerchief draped over half his face while Pete finished cutting a hole on the side. Trotting into the bathroom, she washed her hands and then came out just as Trudy dropped off the medical bag.

After she gloved, she took the bloody rag away from where Jason held it on the wound above where his ear should've been. It covered an area as big as a silver dollar. The flesh was basically skinned, angry from an infection, and bleeding heavily. "Oh, Jay, this doesn't hurt?" He didn't answer, so she pressed the rag to the wound and peeked around his face.

A pink flush rose up his cheeks and he diverted his eye. "I couldn't quite hear you."

There was no ear to hold the hearing device on this side without wearing the mask. The poor man looked like he might crawl into a hole from humiliation. "This doesn't hurt?" She raised her voice a bit.

That gorgeous blue eye met hers and didn't waiver - not from courage but because he seemed afraid of her reaction. "There's no sensation, no muscle, no pigment." He visibly brace for revulsion.

Her eyes widened. "No muscle? What does bone look like? If it's exposed, don't you need to be in the hospital so you don't get a bone infection? Jason, I don't know if we should be doing this." Snippets of the nightmares of him dying flashed up, and her heart pounded. Her voice rose a bit higher than normal from panic. The edges of the scar were white from loss of pigmentation. The whole wound could be bone for all she could tell, and he had no pain sensation to gauge how severe this was. This wasn't something to play doctor with. God, that area was like being scalped. His skin couldn't heal like it should... He should be in incredible pain. The room dipped.

He reached up and set his right hand on her hip. His calm steadiness made the room still. "Stevens showed me a photo of it. There's not bone exposed. Flex your legs and stop thinking about it, Emma." Jason's voice rang tinny and far away.

"He's bleeding, Emma. We need to get this closed." Pete's voice cut in.

Jason needed this taken care of now before he bled out more or caught infection. Her stomach calmed and legs firmed up with some shifting of her feet. "What's first?"

Pete seemed to have learned some nursing skills because he helped her follow Jason's directions to the 't,' making tiny tweaks to her process and explaining why. So many nuances were involved because of the delicate scar tissue. After applying silicone dressing to stimulate healing, she stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. "I think you just wanted to avoid going to the hospital. I don't know that we should've done this."

A laugh burst from Pete, and Jason cracked a smile as he got up and held the handkerchief in place.

"What?" She looked from Jason to Pete.

Jason headed to the closet. A few drops of blood dotted the shoulder of his white shirt.

"We've learned what we can and shouldn't treat at home, right, sir?" Pete chuckled.

A snort came from the closet.

Pete's voice fell so Jason wouldn't hear, and his smile faded. "He gets these kind of wounds a few times a year because the skin is so fragile. These usually heal being treated at home. Like how you did his forehead last year."

The poor man suffered so. She gave Pete a sad smile. "Thank you. I think I have a lot of nursing to learn."

Pete smiled. "For the record, he wasn't bleeding out. I just said that because your stomach gets stronger when you think he's in trouble."

She laughed and swatted his arm. "Thanks, next time I won't believe you and it'll actually be an emergency." Pete laughed and she happened to glance at the closet. Her smile died.

Jason stood in the closet doorway, only his left half visible. Sadness flickered in his eye. He disappeared inside again.

"I'll be downstairs," Pete whispered and left.

"Jason?" She crossed over to the closet, the floorboards announcing her approach. The closet light flipped off just as she reached it - he may as well have slammed a door in her face. Taking a step to the side, she leaned her back against the adjacent wall and wrapped her arms around herself. "Jason, we weren't making fun of you."

"We used to laugh like that." Sadness filled those words. His voice came just around the corner, as if he leaned against the other side of the same wall.

His sadness brought forth her own. "I hate this distance. I hate having to wait all day to see you. I hate having only three minutes a day with you, trying to figure out what's the most important to say and then so unsure if you even want to be there that I end up saying nothing." His silence drove a knife through her heart. Tears welled and her voice grew thick. "I don't want you to be afraid to tell me if you want a divorce. I just want you happy, and I don't think that means me anymore." Then she shoved away from the wall and headed for the door, holding back the tears until reaching the safety of her room. She reached for the doorknob.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and a warm, hard chest pressed against her back as his other arm wrapped around. "Of course it means you," he whispered against the top of her head. "I'm trying the best I know how. I'm so afraid of frightening you again." When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut in. "I know you say it was because you were having a panic attack. You don't remember what the scars look like, do you?"

"No. How can I be afraid of what I don't remember?" She wrapped her hands over his arms around her waist, soaking in every second of this embrace to brand it to memory. It might be weeks before receiving another touch from him.

"It's the mind's way of protecting itself from something it can't handle. I don't want to frighten you when you do remember."

Tears burned and she pulled at his arms to get free as the anger bubbled up, but he only held tighter. "God, you're not some monster! Maybe I can't remember because I was so terrified that I'd see Gaston! Maybe I didn't get a good look! Maybe I don't even care what you look like!" She shoved and pulled until his grip slipped enough. Then she spun in his arms and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face against his chest. "I miss you." Tears rolled down.

He didn't move at first, as if surprised that she hadn't looked at his face. Then he held her tight and buried his face in her hair. "Don't cry, Emma," he whispered. "Don't cry."

Trudy burst into the room. "How is...Oh!"

She spun around in embarrassment. Nothing like being caught in an intimate moment and throwing onesslf at a man who'd made it so clear that he preferred distance. Brushing at her eyes, she hurred to her own room.

"Emma!" Jason's heavy footsteps followed.

But she closed the door, flipped the latch, and buzzed straight for the hall door to lock that one too.

"Emma." The connecting doorknob jiggled. "Emma, let me in," he pleaded.

Holding a hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs, she leaned against the hallway door and sank to the floor. He would've come into the bright room without a thought about the scars. And then probably would've resented her.

* * *

Darkness had barely fallen, draping the room in various shades of black that night when a knock came from the connecting door. She leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane at the windowseat. Jason couldn't be avoided forever, so she pushed to her feet and unlocked the door.

Warm lips locked with hers. Corded arms pulled her against a hard chest. His tongue dipped into her mouth with intoxicating sweetness. She drank him like a thirsting woman in the desert. Her heart fluttered and she grabbed his shirtfront as her knees grew weak.

He broke the kiss, his hot pants brushing over her face. "I should apologize for barging in and taking such liberties, but I'm not the least bit remorseful." The back of his knuckles stroked her cheek. "I'll be back later tonight. If I stay, we'll end up in bed." He went back into his room and closed the door.

She stared at the door and laid the tips of her fingers against her swollen lips. It took a long time to come down from the clouds.


	25. Chapter 25

Sitting in his grandmother's chair, she resumed the sketch from the other night. The moonlight offered a romantic, nostalgic glow while waiting for Jason. The clock down the hall chimed half past nine. The butterflies in her belly flapped with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

She yawned, the exhaustion from not sleeping well lately taking a toll. In a couple hours or less he'd be here. Another yawn. Perhaps a quick nap before he arrived so she wouldn't be too tired to stay up if he wanted to talk longer tonight. Lying down, she pulled up the blanket. Just a few minutes. She set her phone alarm for ten o'clock just in case.

* * *

The morning sun shined behind her closed eyes. She shot upright in a panic and looked around. The clock read quarter past seven in the morning, she was in bed, and her cell phone sat on the nightstand. She snatched it up. The alarm had been turned off. Disappointment slumped her shoulders. Jason must've come in before ten, put her to bed, and turned off the alarm.

Throwing on a sweater and jeans, she knocked on the connecting door to apologize so he wouldn't think she'd been avoiding him. No answer. His bedroom was empty, as well as his office. But then again he didn't have the nonprofit job to keep him occupied ten hours a day.

Prince sniffed and led the way to the kitchen where Trudy cooked flatcakes on a griddle.

"Morning, Trudy. Is Jason home?" She leaned her elbows on the island counter and held back the flush of embarrassment at having to ask the housekeeper where her own husband was.

"Morning. Yes, he's around, don'tcha know." Trudy plopped eggs onto the griddle. Soft sizzling crackled the air. "He tries to keep to the shadows like a ghost when he can't wear the mask. But he's there, Emma."

Her brow furrowed at Trudy's odd choice of words. "Okay. I'm going to go start work." On the way to her office, she left a note on his desk.

 _I tried to stay up for you last night. Thanks for tucking me in._

 _Love you,_

 _Em_

Then she went to her office. The drapes hadn't been opened yet, so she crossed the dark room and reached for the heavy velvet curtain. A large, familiar hand caught hers, sending her heart racing with excitement. Jason. She looked to the right but could't see anything in the darkness. Wrapping her fingers around his hand, she took a step closer. "I was looking for you."

Fingertips trailed along her jaw in a silent reply.

The butterflies beat faster. His touch had been missing for so long. Her voice fell to soft tones in the darkness. "I got tired and set my alarm in case I overslept your visit. Thank you for tucking me in."

"Did you have nightmares?" His baritone flowed low and honey smooth. His breath caressed her lips.

"I think I was too tired," she whispered and cupped her hand over his on her face. It did seem odd that not a single nightmare had occurred, though. "Did you stay last night?"

"I'll leave you to your work," he said in hushed tones.

So he had stayed...it melted her heart.

"I just wanted to see you being I didn't get to last night, Emma."

Oh goodness, her knees grew weak. She caught her lip between her teeth for a moment in a shy smile. "Do you need help changing your bandage?"

A hint of amusement lightened his words. "Stevens seems to suddenly have better competency now, but thank you."

She opened her mouth to ask him how he was doing with not having the Foundation job. But he might not want to talk about that wound yet. "Are you going to be home today?"

Solemness crept into his voice. "Given my unemployment status and socially unacceptable appearance at the moment, I planned on it."

Oh, goodness. That had come out all wrong. "I didn't mean it like that, Jason." She set a hand on his muscular chest. Thick material brushed her fingers. Even without having work today, he wore a suit.

A soft sigh stirred her hair. "I know you didn't. I'm in ill humor and don't know what to do with myself. The Foundation is transferred over as much as they'll let me. There's nothing with the research to do. I can't exactly job hunt when I can't even be interviewed." A heart-felt sigh followed the words this time.

A former cardiac surgeon and nonprofit hospital CEO who needed to telecommute most of the time had limited options without starting over. Plus, he wasn't a man who followed; he led. And what a great leader he proved to be time and time again. Financially there was no need for him to work another day in his life, but it would be good for his self-confidence and to keep him busy. "Why not start something new? Maybe this happened for a reason. You wanted to do prenatal cardiology - "

He snorted. "I can't ethically operate with the depth perception issues. It's eight o'clock; you should work." The man pulled away and headed for the door.

She turned. "Jason?"

His silhouette stopped just before reaching the light streaming in the doorway.

"You'll be amazing at whatever you decide to do. I'll probably have no idea what your job prospects mean or entail, but maybe I can be a sounding board." She shrugged. "Probably for you to hear yourself, but..."

A smile tinted his voice. "You're far more intelligent than you realize, Emma. Thank you. I may take you up on that offer." Then he closed the door a bit, creating an angle to escape without her seeing his face.

The air swept out of the room with him. It hurt leaving him so lost like this, as well as not having him near. "Jason?" She didn't move in case he came back in.

"Yes?" His voice traveled through the half-open door.

She walked over, keeping the door as a barrier. "I'm glad you came this morning...I miss you a lot."

Not a sound came for several moments. His tone softened. "I miss you too, Emma...I love you."

Tears of happiness stung. "I love you too, Jay." It felt good to release some of the sadness. To not have such a distance. To use his pet name again.

"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart." He must've noticed her name for him. His footsteps faded away.

Sweetheart. It seemed like ages since hearing that name. Such a simple word. And the power it had to sweep her away.

* * *

When she closed her laptop at half past five, Trudy entered with a giddy smile. "As sweet as a lamb you look - more at peace. From Dr. Port." The woman set a letter on the desk and folded her hands.

Her brow knit. Jason previously had delivered messages to her through Trudy and Pete or had left short notes on her bed. Communication through a letter was a new one. She opened it.

 _Dear Emma,_

 _Please accept my request for the honor of your presence in the dining hall this evening. I will not partake in the meal, but Ms. Van Hoodie will prepare the menu of your choosing._

 _Love,_

 _Jason_

A smile bloomed so big that her cheeks ached. Of course he wouldn't want to share meals yet, but this had to be a step in the right direction. Slowly folding the letter, she took the extra time to bask in the glow before glancing up at Trudy.

"What shall I tell him?" Trudy clasped her hands together in excitement.

"Please tell him I accept his invitation." A welcomed flush crept up her face.

The woman beamed and bustled to the door before turning at the last minute. "There are a couple dresses laid out for you to choose from." Then Trudy whirled out.

Curious as to what Trudy had chosen, she headed upstairs. A low-cut black lace gown from the closet laid on the bed. Sequins glittered here and there on the bodice but heavily decorated the mermaid-style, ankle-length skirt. The second option laid beside it - a deep purple, off-the-shoulder dress. Sweeps of the knit fabric draped across the front and melted into a fluttering skirt. Both dresses had an elegant yet sexual flair. Trudy flounced into the room.

Cocking her head, she pursed her lips and studied the two attire options. "Did Jason or you choose these dresses?"

The woman flitted around the room in preparation. "He said he would not be a controlling husband, don'tcha know. I pushed him for ideas of how fancy, and he spilled his beans suggesting these two."

"Am I a little woman who would have a man pick out my clothes?" She frowned.

Trudy smiled. "Dear Jesus knows you're as stubborn as they come. A hootin' blowfish, I'm saying I know you like to see him happy when he's been sad."

A smiled tugged at her lips. "True. I'm wearing the amythest one."

"The menu?"

She tapped her lip for a moment. "Let's make something that'll be easy for him to eat. Perhaps I can entice him to take a few bites with me."

"Mashed potatoes," the woman blurted.

"Good. He struggles a bit with thick meats. Hmm...what about fish?"

Trudy frowned. "Heavens to Betsy, no. You'll be smelling like fish and he won't want to kiss you. Like a pumpkin in the desert that'd be."

Laughter bubbled up. "Trudy, your metaphores are improving. Alright. Pasta? His plate seems to return fast when you make that mushroom pasta."

Trudy clapped her hands together. "Yes! Chicken marsala. Do you need help getting ready?"

"No, thank you. I'll come help you get started so dinner can be ready as early as possible."

A mischevious look glinted in Trudy's eye. "Maybe he'll stay longer?"

She smiled. "Exactly." Then she hurried downstairs with Trudy, almost as giddy as a child on Christmas.

* * *

She patted the topknot at the back of her head. Curls fell in soft waves down to her shoulders. Then she lifted the skirt and descended the stairs, her heart thundering in excitement and nervousness. The lights in the foyer had been dimmed considerably since leaving Trudy and Pete in the kitchen. The clink of dishes created a homey music. She crossed the marble floor in silver glittering heels and stepped into the kitchen.

Pete filled a China plate with juicy, plump chicken marsala. Trudy had outdone herself again in the cooking department. He stilled mid-scoop when he spotted her. "Oh my."

Biting her lip in self-consciousness, she ran a hand down the front of the dress. "Too much?" She fingered the diamond necklace Jason had given her for the opera date last year.

"No. He's going to be breathless."

Trudy turned from where she cooked mashed potatoes over the stove. A huge gasp filled the air. "Emma! You're as beautiful as a gem in the ocean." The woman hurried around the counter and fussed with a curl to arrange it just so. "Perfect." Then she folded her hands and held them to her lips as tears shimmered. "Like an angel. Go steal his heart."

Her cheeks burned. "Do you need me to carry something into the dining room?"

"Shoo!" Trudy pushed her out the doorway.

So she wandered to the dining hall just a few doors down. A single candle glowed at the far end of the mahogany wood table near a glass of wine and single place setting. That candle offered the only sanctuary from the shadows. She turned to go ask Trudy when to expect Jason. A hand captured hers. Her head whipped to the right in surprise, searching the blackness.

"Good evening, Mrs. Port," a deep voice purred. He raised her hand to disappear into the blackness. Warm lips pressed over her fingers.

A hot flush swept over her body...and so did a smile. She looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Good evening."

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning." His voice fell to a husky serenade, and he lowered her hand but didn't let go.

She flushed harder. Thank heavens for the darkness so he wouldn't see how he could make her heart flutter. "You can't even see in the dark."

"I saw you descend the stairs and go to the kitchen." He laid her arm over his and led the way to the candlelight.

The smoothness of his suit under her hand begged to be stroked. The muscular cording of his arm beckoned to be caressed. The honeysweetness of his voice whispered for a kiss. She took a deep breath to still her heart. "Spying?" Her cheeks burned at the thrill of him standing in the shadows just to catch a glimpse of her.

"Watching my wife in the foyer does not qualify as spying." Then he pulled out the chair. When he scooted it in for her, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered, "The bath, on the other hand..."

Blood rushed to her face as he slipped around the table and back into the darkness. A chair scraped a few seats away and his invisible gaze curled heat in her belly. There was a part that wanted him to desire her so much that he would steal a glance in the bath, but the other part grew a bit uncomfortable over unknowingly being watched. Dropping her eyes to the table, she repositioned a fork simply for something to fidget out the nervous energy. "Do you watch...?"

"It's a pastime I wish to resurrect, with your consent. I would announce my presence, of course." Obvious desire deepened his voice.

Too embarrassed to outright give permission, she offered the table a shy smile. "You find your pleasure in watching, don't you? Both dresses you selected were a bit revealing." This dress's bodice lifted her bust and the neckline scooped down enough that it gave the illusion of a bountiful bust, to her shameful delight. It, however, was not a dress she'd have the nerve to wear in public.

"I informed Ms. Van Hoodie they were mere suggestions - that I preferred more formal attire for this evening."

She frowned. "Why?" Then she took a drink of wine to calm her fluttering heart.

"So I may admire my beautiful wife. I don't believe you would be amenable to dining in the manner I prefer to see you."

If she hadn't just swallowed, she would've choked. Instead, she stared at him in shock.

"Forgive me, that was crass. I have been needing you for too long, and I'm uncouth and on edge."

A frown of confusion tightened her forehead. "My presence bothers you?"

The chair creaked, as if he shifted. "Your presence makes me impatient enough to not make it to the marriage bed."

A rush of desire left her dizzy, flushed, and needing him. Her heart slammed with lust and shyness at his aggressive manner. "Is that you're way of saying you're going to make love to me tonight?"

Trudy bustled in with a smile and a plate of food. "Will there be anything else?" The woman looked at her.

"No, thank you, Trudy." As soon as Trudy left and closed the door, she looked in his direction.

"Not tonight."

She kept her eyes on the food as she cut it, teetering between embarrassment at the rejection or elation that he took such care with her.

"Steps, Emma. When you do recall my face, I will not have you frightened during lovemaking."

Irritation over his lack of self-worth bubbled up and strengthened her tongue. "Did it occur to you that you're setting me up to perceive you as a monster with these calculated steps and measures? Is it not better to have the reassurance that you are still gentle and safe before I remember?" She cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

"Your boldness does surprise me at times." He sighed. "We are in disagreement, I see." His chair creaked, making it easy to envision him sitting back in his seat for a trying discussion. "This is a matter I will not negotiate."

Her spine stiffened and her gaze cut straight to him through the dark. "Neither will I."

"Oh, really?" He sounded more amused and surprised than serious. "By all means, enlighten me as to how you envision this working."

Raising her chin, she kept her voice even keel. "There was nothing wrong with how things were going on the honeymoon. I would say that at this point in time, there needs to be more rather than less openness so you don't feel alienated."

His voice bristled. "You think I'm feeling sorry for myself."

Her tone firmed. "I think you are so lost that you don't know what to feel. The only thing you know to do is shove people away and project your fears onto them. It is not I or anyone else who fears you as a monster but yourself."

His chair scraped back in an instant. A very faint angry glint of his eye caught the candlelight.

She looked up at him and said in soft tones before he could say a word, "Which is why your dinner invitation meant so much that I would've turned myself inside-out if you had asked."

Silence. On and on it stretched.

She stood and walked around the table, letting her hand drag along the chairbacks to find the way to him in the darkness. A chair blocked her path four seats down. Reaching out, her hand landed on his chest. His heart raced beneath her palm. "Do you fear that you'll hurt me?"

His voice flowed defeated in a weak whisper. "I'd never harm you."

"Then why do you make me face the nightmares?" she whispered.

"What do you mean?" Concern filled his words.

She searched the darkness for his face. "The nightmares do not come when you're near."

His chest rose in a huge, silent sigh. "Finish your meal before it grows cold, Emma."

Her hand fell at the failed attempt to win him from the shadows. She returned to her seat and picked up the fork with a heavy heart.

"I heard you, Emma." His gentle voice cut through the silence. "Sometimes you leave me speechless."

She blinked in his direction and frowned.

Gentleness wove through his words. "Do not look so surprised at your power over me. It has always been so and will always be."

Her eyes widened. "Never was it my intent to have control over you - "

"Emma." The quiet calmness of his voice stopped her words. "I would have no one else own my heart. I shall bid you good evening so you may finish your dinner." Then his footsteps receded around the far end of the table.

What could have been a romantic dinner turned into a ruined night that he was ending early. Perhaps guilt should've washed over, but determination took it's place. She shot to her feet. "No. I didn't marry a ghost, but I may as well have with how little you're around."

The footsteps halted.

"You aren't the only one in this marriage."

The floor creaked and he came into view. Soft candlelight flickered over the left side of his face as he took a step closer and trailed a finger over her jaw. A slight smile touched his lips. "There's the Emma I know," he whispered.

She caught his hand, not knowing what to say to make him stay.

"I'll be up after dinner."

Her gaze fell in disappointment, but the only one to blame for it was herself. "I hate this." The words escaped as a whisper. "I feel like a dog who waits all day for a pat on the head at night only to do it all over the next day."

His back shot ramrod straight, as if she'd slapped him. "Never did I intend to create those feelings in you. I do my best to give you space during the day to get your work done, but it is not without difficulty. With each passing day, my desire for you grows and I don't wish to come across like I did tonight. It is because of my failing manners that I am ending our time early."

She searched his pale gaze. He was too frightened for her to make love and too restless to not make love. "If you are worried about making love to me, let me make love to you."

His eye closed and an unsteady breath puffed over her face. "You don't even know how you torture me," he whispered. "No, Emma. I stand by the reasons I stated earlier." Then he disappeared.

* * *

True to his word, a knock sounded at the connecting door less than an hour later. The door opened, but he didn't step in. His hand reached out into the firelight in her room. "Come to bed, Emma."

Sitting up in bed, she frowned and blinked twice.

"Come. You didn't tell me that the nightmares stay away if we sleep in the same bed."

She ran a hand through her hair and her brow furrowed. "I said if you stay."

His hand didn't lower. "Other nights I have sat beside your bed and the nightmares have still come. You said that last night you didn't have nightmares. Last night I laid in bed with you while you slept."

This unexpected turn of events, particularly after the disasterous dinner, was a lovely surprise. She stepped onto the icy wood floor, wrapped her arms around herself, and trotted to the fireplace to douse the flames.

"Get in bed. I'll do that." He slipped into her room while she darted out.

The man did not make any physical contact that night, but her knight kept the monsters away.

* * *

He had already left when she woke up, but his side of the bed still held a slight warmth. She rolled over and buried her face in his pillow, inhaling his wonderful scent. With a sigh of regret, she left the bed to start work.

After an early dinner, she wandered to the library to select a new book and pass the time until Jason's nightly visit in her room. She flipped on the light and frowned. A trend seemed to be forming that the lights in the house had been tampered with - all of them either had part of the lights disconnected or substantially dimmed. It created abundant shadows in each room - enough to make it a bit eery. Hurrying over to a shelf, she grabbed the first book in reach without looking at the title.

"Good evening." A deep voice said, just meters behind.

She whirled around, her heart leaping out of her chest. The blackest shadows cloaked him. Laying a hand over her pounding heart, she sagged against the bookshelf in relief. "I wish you wouldn't sneak up like that."

"Forgive me. It's the only way to move between the shadows. Did you sleep well?"

"I did." A smile spread. "Did you?"

"I did."

Silence.

"Do you need to brush up on your anatomy?"

"What?" She looked down at the book. Human Male Anatomy. A hot burn flashed through her face and she shoved it back on the shelf. "Oh, I was spooked and didn't look at what I grabbed." A single, not-quite-silent chuckle filled the air. "You're a cardiologist. Perhaps I should ask why you have such a book."

"I did attend med school and had to become well versed in all functions of the body. Including the female."

Holding her head high, she didn't react. "You're trying to shock me. If I need a live male specimen, I'll know where to find a good one."

A rich, hearty laugh filled the air, trying to tempt a smile from her. "Touche, my dear." The laughter still colored his words. "Although, I would then have to brush up on my female anatomy."

She frowned. "You? Oh, I meant Pete." Shocked silence. She held her fingers to her mouth to hide the smile. This teasing is what she missed.

"Saucy wench. You're in luck that I have so much self-control, or I'd have you on that sofa by now."

"Hmm..." She pursed her lips and leaned back against the books. "I envisioned up against the bookshelf."

A pained half-groan, half-growl escaped from deep in his chest.

"You rarely come outside of my room unless you need something." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His eye could be felt burning through her clothes.

"I desired to see your beauty." Huskiness deepened his tone.

A flush of shyness flooded her cheeks, and her eyes swept downward.

"We banter about that and yet this embarrasses you?" He sounded truly perplexed.

"So I'm an odd bird." She shrugged and pressed her palms against the bookshelf behind her. "You perceive beauty in what others perceive as ordinary."

"Then I am blessed to not be as blind as others." The floor creaked. "You should pay more attention in public - men watch you, Emma." His voice came from the right. A moment later the floor creaked on the left.

"I feel like a rabbit with you circling like you're going to eat me."

"Would you like for me to eat you?" Undeniable desire threaded through those words.

A shiver ran up as heat curled in her belly. Her eyes lifted to where his steps slowly moved. "I think I would," she whispered.

"Go before you tempt the dragon."

"I don't fear him." She raised her chin.

"You should because a fierce appetite has been brewing for weeks."

A thrill of delight ran through. "Then satisfy your hunger." Silence. "Jason?" She stepped into the shadows and searched. He was gone.

She sat at the windowseat in her room and pulled the blanket higher. The bedroom seemed to get colder each night, particularly without the fire. Clouds covered the moon, but light danced over the snow-covered mountain landscape and evergreens. A faint golden glow from the small town at the bottom of the mountain lent a warm winter night nostalgia.

A light knock on the connecting door brought a smile to her face. He stepped into the room. "It's freezing in here. I wish you'd have Stevens or I start your fire so you wouldn't catch your death." His shoes clicked across the floor to the far side of the room. "Did you close this heat vent?"

"No." She stood up with a frown.

His cell phone light lit up a vent nearly nine feet up the wall, and his silhouette peered inside. "Lovely. The vent collapsed and the heat is likely going into the wall."

"Is that bad?"

"We'll have to rip the wall out to repair it." He sighed and the light turned off. A loud thump hit the floor - he must've jumped down from whatever he'd been standing on to see the vent. "Come. It's too cold for you to be in here. I'll fix it tomorrow."

She dropped the blanket on the bed and grabbed her nightgown. "I'll change and be there in a minute."

His hand dipped into the moonlight to swipe the garment off the bed, and he disappeared into the other room without missing a beat. "It's too cold. Come."

Propping her hands on her hips, she remained in her room. "I'm not a dog."

"Sometimes it would be easier if you were," he mumbled to himself.

Her mouth dropped open. "I heard that!"

A rich chuckle floated in with the inviting firelight. "I know. I'd hoped you'd come barging in so at least you'd be out of the cold."

With a huff, she stormed in. "One would think you were born royalty with how high-handed you can be."

His room was empty. The connecting door closed behind her.

She spun around, ready to give him her full opinion.

He stood in the dark corner behind the door and crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth glinted in a cocky smile, but the rest of his face remained hidden. "Change for bed, Emma."

Her lips pursed. "And you continue to order me about."

"It's ten o'clock and has been a long day. I'm tired and you need to catch up on your sleep."

His exhaustion softened her temper a bit. She snatched up the nightgown that he'd laid on the bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Out here."

Her feet stopped, and she looked to the right where he leaned against the wall.

His voice softened considerably, grief clinging to his words. "I would give anything to be able to touch you; I ask that I may instead see my wife."

Intense heartache ebbed from him and twisted her heart. Ever since that terrible night, his touches had been limited and calculated. An ache grew deep inside to comfort him in any way possible. From any other man, it would seem like a perverse request. From him, it was a means for an emotional and physical connection. "I'll keep my eyes closed." Her heart beat faster in hope. If only he would let the physical intimacy happen, it would be possible to prove to him that he was no monster.

"I will not be the source of your nightmares. The memory will surface on its own, it's just a matter of when." He didn't move from his home in the shadows.

"If it is going to happen anyway like you say, why not just show me? Here where it's safe and controlled."

"Because I'm being selfish," he whispered. "I want you near as long as possible. There will come a time when you will tolerate my presence, perhaps, but you will no longer wish for it. And I do not doubt your love - it's instinct to recoil from what is unnatural, from what should actually be dead."

Pain from a broken heart swirled inside. Unshed tears pricked behind her eyes. "And what if none of this comes to fruition? You would rather waste our whole lives keeping this distance on the chance I'll remember? There aren't going to be babies, are there? You lied downstairs. There aren't going to be steps to regain that intimacy." Her voice grew thick.

A shaky sigh filled the air. "My promise for as many children as you desire still stands."

"As long as it isn't by natural means." She wrapped her arms around herself, the fire no longer as warm as a minute ago. He probably wouldn't even be there during the artificial insemination. Being impregnated alone in a cold sterile clinic wasn't how she'd imagined conceiving a child. His silence spoke loud and clear.

Walking over to the hall door, she set a hand on the knob and looked to the left in his direction. His silhouette straightened, as if on the verge of stopping her. "You are not protecting me from a monster - you're creating one in my head. The man who has been my safehaven from the nightmares is morphing into something that I do not understand. Skin is no more than a shell. I loved you when you were no more than teeth and an eye and a mask. In my experience with men, I should've been terrified of you then, but you let me see what hid beneath. You won't let me see that anymore, and so you will become a monster I fear." Then she slipped out the door and into her old bedroom.

The demons returned that night. This time in the dreams, Jason appeared. When she screamed for him to help as Gaston tortured and beat her, he didn't rush to rescue her. Instead, he turned and walked away as she sobbed for him to come back.

No more. If the damn stubborn man wanted this distance, she would not be hanging on every minute waiting for him to appear at night. The man did not understand what he asked, and before this went any further, he would be made to see how damaging this would be to the marriage.

During the next two days, she kept busy with work and fell asleep in her old room early. Jason did not appear. The second evening, she went into town with Trudy to get groceries.

In the personal care aisle, a plastic pink hairbrush caught her eye. A red rose painting decorated the back side, the stem extending down into the handle.

"Do you like it?" Trudy's voice cut in.

She blinked and looked at Trudy on her left. "Sorry, I didn't realize I stopped walking. Let's go or we'll be here all night. The snow is supposed to get heavier soon too, so we need to get home." Her purse had been left at home anyways.

"Dr. Port gives me a credit card to use for his purchases. I'm putting the groceries on the card, don'tcha know. He wouldn't object to this going on it." Trudy reached for the brush.

"No, I was just looking." One more glance at the brush and she pulled the woman along. She wouldn't spend his money while on tense terms and give the impression that she stuck around for the funds.

The clock struck half past ten by the time the groceries had been unloaded and she dragged herself upstairs. A very small avalanche just down the road had made the driveway impassable. Her shoulders ached from having to carry in so many groceries, load after load, from the bend down the road. Who knew that feeding four adults over a month could rack up such a hefty bill. And a thousand grocery bags to lug to the house. Prince, however, had a jolly good time racing back and forth on everyone's trips to the car. She shuffled into her room to get nightclothes and then climb into a hot bath.

A wonderful wave of heat hit when she opened the door. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as it began to melt the ice from her bones. Sweet heaven, Jason must've fixed the vent. A fire burned hot in the fireplace as a warm welcome too.

Jason stepped in through the connecting door that sat wide open. "Stevens said you were going with him and Ms. Van Hoodie to get groceries. Where have you been?"

"A small avalanche - "

"What?! Are you hurt?" He rushed forward, a white ski mask over his face. Instead of the eye and one side of the mouth being sewn shut, a bandage hid the scars. His warm hands captured her freezing ones. "Emma, you're like ice."

"I'm fine. It blocked the driveway, so we had to haul the groceries a bit far."

He rubbed her hands between his. "Come get a warm bath." Then he tugged her along and got the steamy hot water rushing into the tub.

Too sore to care about anything other than getting in the hot water, she peeled off her shirt and groaned at the protesting muscles.

The man stepped over and helped her strip, concerned wrinkles marring his brow. "Did you hurt your back?" He held her hands as she stepped into the steaming water.

"I was carrying a bag of canned food and lost my footing. My back twisted."

"Let me help." He knelt behind and helped her lean forward. Then he rolled up his sleeves and swept her hair over her shoulder.

She groaned in relief as his fingers dug into the knots already forming. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on her knees. Those magical fingers even worked out soreness in the front of her shoulders that she hadn't even noticed.

"Emma? I thought about what you said the other night. If you don't change your mind by then, I don't wish for some tube to get you pregnant by artifical insemination."

She remained silent but stared at the wall, her heart beating faster with hope.

"Perhaps we'll have fertility issues and need IVF but even so, I want to be there with you. I don't know yet how we get back to where things were on the honeymoon, but I want to try."

Lifting her head, she looked over her shoulder. Tears welled. "I want to too. And I'm being a coward, but if we do have to see a doctor to have a baby, I don't want to go by myself."

He shifted to the side of the tub and cupped her cheek, looking her straight in the eye. "You aren't a coward and you won't be by yourself. God willing, everything will work out on it's own just fine. It broke my heart yesterday when it dawned on me that you're worried you'd have to go through it on your own. I'll be there for every fertility or OB appointment. I don't care how well we're getting through things or not, I'll be there. Alright?"

She sniffled and nodded.

"Promise that you believe me?"

With a watery laugh, she nodded.

"Come here, sweetheart." He leaned forward for a hug.

"I'll get you wet."

"Lucky me, my skin is waterproof." Then he hugged her tight.

She shifted to hug at a better angle. And he splashed right into the tub, sending water sloshing like a typhoon.

He shot up, his legs still tangled over the edge of the tub, and sputtered water. "Did I hurt you?"

Surprise silenced her for a moment and she looked down between her legs where he leaned up on his elbow and looked at her with a wide eye. "Um, no. Are you alright?"

"I thought I landed on your knee and broke it." He wiped the dripping ski mask water from his eye and tried to sit up. That only resulted in him slipping back down.

The back of his head smacked against her chest, luckily padded by her curves. "Sorry." His clothes gave him little traction and he slid down again when he tried to get up.

She couldn't hold it back any longer and burst out laughing. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep him reclined against her chest before he killed himself and ended up looking like an idiot in the process.

His laugh bubbled up too and he relaxed against her. "Well, I guess I'm joining you for your bath. That had to be the best cannon ball in history." When the tears of laughter subsided, he tilted his head back and looked up at her. "I love you, Emma."

She smiled down at him, the love blossoming in her heart. "I love you too." Then she leaned down and brushed a kiss over his lips.

He hooked a hand behind her neck and kept her from straightening for a moment. That blue eye dove right into her heart. "We'll get through this, Em."

"I know, Jay." She stroked his left cheek through the mask.

Then he kissed with passion from his heart.


	26. Chapter 26

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Something interrupted a deep sleep. The thick drapes around his bed blocked out all light. An odd whistling mingled with the crackling and popping of the fire. The whistling grew higher pitched and more labored. It was a familiar sound, but the sleepy haze made it hard to place the source. She reached over to wake Jason. Her hand landed on the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest where he already sat up. Her heart stopped. His asthma. "Where's your inhaler?" She whipped open her drape for some light.

"I...have...it." He wheezed. When he held the inhaler to his mouth again, some of the medication visibly shot out the other side of his mouth. He was panicking and not thinking straight that he had to create a seal to breathe it in.

She climbed over and straddled his left thigh. Slapping a hand over the right side of his mouth, she locked a hand over his to keep the inhaler there. But he shook his head and tried to pull away. "No, honey, you didn't breathe it in. It's alright," she purred to keep him calm even though her hands shook. "One, two, three." She pushed the pump.

He stilled and wheezed in the medication.

"One more. One, two, three." Then she leaned across him and snatched his watch off the nightstand to time one minute for the next dose. She sat on his left and stroked his back. "It's alright. The medicine is working," she lied in hopes that his distress would go down, thereby calming down the asthma attack. The wheezing eased to a lower pitch. After another dose and a few more minutes, his breathing returned almost to normal.

When he leaned back against the headboard, she felt his pulse at his wrist. It still raced and his hand and arm shook. "Is this a side effect of the steroids?" He nodded. The poor thing's legs trembled too, making the bed quiver. "Should we walk around?"

When he nodded again, she got up and grabbed his robe from the chair. Then she took it to his side of the bed where he had just finished pulling on the mask and held it open for him.

"Get yours so you don't freeze," he croaked, his voice still not back to normal. Then he reached to take the robe. The man looked miserable.

"Just let me baby you." She held the robe up, and he complied with letting her help put it on. Then she darted across the cold wood floor to get a robe from her room.

He shuffled into the doorway in a pair of slippers, shoulders slouched, and his hands jammed in the pockets.

Her heart lurched seeing him look so ill. "Are you up for a walk?"

"Yeah, just kinda nauseous and lightheaded."

Even his speech slipping into slang spoke of how under the weather he felt. She toed into slippers and hurried over to slip under his left arm. His whole body jittered yet. "If you can make it down the stairs, let's go to the kitchen and get you some peppermint tea or something to help."

He shuffled down the hallway, leaning on her a bit. "Thank you. I don't mean to keep you up."

"Hush. I wish you would've woken me up when you started having the attack." Her grip around his waist tightened and she rested a hand on his chest upon reaching the stairs.

"It didn't start out bad, but I didn't think about needing to create a seal around my mouth." Humiliation tinted his voice.

"A brilliant mind can't be brilliant at every moment of the day, Jason." She smiled up at him, but only a weak smile touched his lips.

In the kitchen, she made a cup of peppermint tea with a straw and carried it over to the table where he sat. Then she sat beside him. When he picked it up, however, his hands shook too much yet to keep it steady. "Here, Jay." She lifted the cup and held the straw to his lips.

He took a long sip and then released the straw. "Thank you." But he wouldn't look at her.

Such fragile self-confidence and this must make him feel incompetent. "You look so miserable and yet not a peep of complaining. I have a feeling I won't be as graceful when I'm pregnant." Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss over the roughness of the mask covering his cheek.

A weak smile lifted the corner of his mouth and that blue eye shifted to her. "I'd do a lot more complaining if it was morningsickness or labor. Since I'll be the source of your anguish, I can be a good slave for nine months."

That would've elicited a laugh if he hadn't looked so self-conscious. At least he was talking and sleeping in the same bed now. It had to be a strong start, at least.

* * *

The next morning, he was already gone when she woke up. His voice traveled through his office door, as if one the phone, so she went to her office and started work. He'd probably be off in a few minutes and then she could check how he was doing after his episode last night.

A knock echoed on her office door less than five minutes later. "Come in!"

"Pardon the interruption." Jason peeked in, wearing a suit and the black ski mask. "When you have ten minutes before five o'clock, may I speak with you?"

Her brow furrowed. He never interrupted during work hours, much less asked for a meeting. "I can do now. Give me thirty seconds." She waved him in and finished sending an email. He seemed more open. Perhaps last night had been a blessing in disguise.

He sat on the opposite side of the desk and waited.

"OK, shoot." She punched Send and then turned to him.

"I just had an impromptu interview."

A smile split her lips. "You did? Is it something you're interested in?" Please let it be good news. Heaven knew he'd had a rough ride the past couple weeks.

His lips pursed. "I'm not sure. He wants a chief of strategy. An old colleague from the research team is looking to start up a nonprofit for a battered women's shelter. It sounds like a wonderful program that could really take off, but..." His eye searched the desk and then lifted to her. "It strikes a bit too close to home. I don't know that I could handle dealing with that every day and not be reminded over and over of what happened to you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I should be jumping at this and passionate about it because of you, but..."

"Jason, some people find strength in having the power to make a difference after having gone through something difficult. Others drown having to be reminded of it daily." She searched his eye. Guilt of turning the job down is what held him back. "You do not owe it to me or anyone else to do this. I know I wouldn't be able to handle it."

"But that's different." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "You have the horror and memories of going through it; I don't." Then he paced. "These women need a place to go to like this, and they need to see that there are men who can be trusted." He grabbed the back of the chair and turned to her. "Women need to know that they don't have to stay with an abuser for any reason. This could be a place where women and children could come for temporary housing while they get an education and the mothers find not just a job but a good, solid one." He paced again, passion raising his voice. "I'm sure a psychologist or two would come onboard right away. These women could also have support groups and learn self-defense and - "

"Why do you want to do this?" He had more drive for this than he seemed to realize.

He whirled around and held out his hand in such distress. "Because maybe it would've helped you!" Silence. His hand fell and shoulders slumped, as if realizing what he'd just said. His voice grew thick and the volume fell. "Years later and I watch you suffer still, with nothing I can do about it."

She sat back in the chair. Jason rarely spoke of what happened and never mentioned how much it bothered him.

He sank onto the edge of the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and holding his forehead for a moment. It really had him unglued. Then he raised his head and searched her eyes, his tone gentle and calm. "I didn't mean that to sound like I think there's something wrong with you. I know everyone helped you as best they knew how, and I'm not saying I could've done any better. What if...what if you'd had something like this from the start?" Tears shimmered in his eye. "All the nightmares and panic attacks and fear of men might not have ever started. What if this makes a difference for even one woman?"

She swallowed hard and got up. Walking around the desk, she knelt in front of him and laid her hands over his.

He brushed at his eye. "I love you and, my god, it rips my heart out every time I see the fear in your eyes."

Swallowing hard, she held his hands tight. "Jason, we don't know if it would've made a difference. Things got better after you, and just sleeping beside you again helps. You don't have to be the chief of strategy to make a difference. Be on the board. Be an investor." The guilt still haunted his eye. "You aren't obligated to take this job."

The man stared at the carpet for several long minutes, clearly torn. "I don't know that I could do the job objectively."

"Jason, the first question is: would this job make you happy? Would you come home each night and not bring the stress and worry and anger home? You did such amazing things for those children at the Foundation but, my dear, I don't think you're thinking about the violence and brutality you're going to witness. Only certain people are cut out to be able to handle that, and I'm not so sure that you are. But that isn't a bad thing. There's nothing wrong with not being cut out for this job. I know that you stand by me and will advocate for me - I don't need you to take this job to prove it." She tilted her head down to catch his eye. "I think you don't want the job but feel guilty to not take it?" When he didn't reply, she leaned her cheek against his. "I can't tell you what to do, but I hope you don't take it."

His hand rested on her arm and his thumb stroked. "Thank you for listening. I have to call him back by end of business day." He still looked torn.

Perhaps a change of subject would help to get away from it for a bit. "How are you feeling after last night?"

With a sigh, he seemed to let go of the job topic and looked at her. "Tired but I think walking around helped burn through some of the side effects of the albuterol." He took her hands. "I worried if you'd remember and be frightened during the night." It hung in the air as a question rather than a statement.

She shook her head. "And we aren't going to live in fear that I'm going to remember or that I'll be scared if I do. I'll only be afraid if that's what you teach me to be."

He sighed and nodded. "I know. I thought about your words the past couple days. It was so hard when I thought you screamed because of what you saw..." His voice grew thick. "I'm just so afraid of you pulling away for good."

"I can't promise that it won't be hard to see what you've endured, but I can promise that I'll still see the man I love and will still desire you, Jason."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Thank you for listening, Emma. I'll see you this evening."

* * *

Trudy trotted in as she shut down the laptop for the day, peering over the top of a very large bouquet of red roses. "The man has not an oodle of sense, don'tcha know. Where to put somethin' this big doesn't occur to a man any more than a rabbit." Trudy panted and plopped down the massive arrangement on the desk.

"Oh my, " she breathed and fingered a velvety petal. "There must be five dozen roses in here."

"Or as many as a fish's scales. But no, there are a hundred."

"One hundred! I've never seen so many in one bouquet in my life." Her mouth dropped. "Why on earth would he send all of these? He must've cleared out his entire garden."

The woman plopped her hands on her hips, still a bit breathless, and opened her mouth.

"One for every moment I've missed you during the month we've been wed." He strode into the room. "I said I would've carried them, Ms. Van Hoodie."

Trudy scoffed. "I wanted ta see her shock myself." Then she slipped out.

Today was the one-month wedding anniversary. "Oh, Jason." A happy flush crept up her face. "Thank you. They're beautiful." Then she bit her lip. The relationship had been so rocky, so unpredictable the past two weeks with not knowing from one moment to the next if he'd even come for the day. "Um, I didn't think we were doing anything for today. I - "

"I know we should've talked about it. They're an apology too - I know these last couple weeks have been awful. I don't want our marriage to be like this. Tonight I want us to start over." He folded his hands behind his back and shifted his feet like he was nervous. "Would you accompany me to dinner this evening? I'm afraid the meal is not superb - mashed potatoes mixed with shredded chicken and a salad of green beans, pecan and apple chunks."

It couldn't be - a meal that he wouldn't have much difficulty eating. "Will you be eating at the same time?"

He gave a single nod and kept his head held high even though he seemed to want to run.

It was like flying over the clouds. Her heart took off and the elation couldn't be contained. She practically ran him over throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Jay, I'll wear my sapphire dress with the necklace and it'll match my ring perfectly." She babbled without taking a breath and let go to check his watch. He grinned. "And if dinner done in an hour or so, it'll be about seven o'clock. Will you stay afterwards? We haven't danced in forever and...what?"

His smile turned a bit sad. "You shouldn't be this excited about a meal." He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "What a fool I've been to neglect you so. Yes, I'll stay and dance as long as you wish, sweetheart."

With a huge grin, she grabbed his hands and pulled him along. "Come help me get ready."

"Me? I'm sure Ms. Van Hoodie is better suited to the task." He frowned and dug his heels in with a frightened look.

She stopped and looked up at him, her heart fluttering to the ground in disappointment. "But, you're my husband. I thought those homey tasks of zipping my dress or straightening your tie are things we would do."

A tilt of his head spoke of his surprise. "It never occurred to me. Never once did I witness such an act between my parents. I think I would like that." He smiled and offered his arm.

She sat on the bed in undergarments and rolled a thigh-length stocking to put on as he surveyed the various pieces of attire she'd set out on the bed.

"I must admit that Ms. Van Hoodie must've purchased some of these things for you. What is this, exactly?" He held up an item and turned it this way and that.

"A bustier." She smiled at his curiosity over the apparent mystery of female attire.

"And this purpose differs from your current garment by...?"

With a laugh, she slipped the tip of the stocking over her toes. "It is strapless. I'm not well-endowed enough to support a strapless bra well, so that works better. It's a bit more formal too."

"Looks a bit uncomfortable like a corset..." His eye caught her slipping the silk stocking up a leg. "Oh, I do believe I enjoy helping you dress," he breathed, practically mesmerized. "May I assist you with the other stocking?"

A flush of delight flooded her cheeks that he found such a simple act desirable. "Um, I suppose," she giggled.

He knelt at her feet and followed the directions to avoid tearing the delicate material. When he finished, his hot palms glided down her thigh and over her knee and wrapped around her calf. The man audibly swallowed hard.

It was romantic and sensual and intimate. Heat pooled in her belly. If this didn't move along, dinner would be very, very cold by the time they made it downstairs. She stood and removed her bra and picked up the bustier.

In an instant, he stood and eased it out of her hands. He stepped behind, lowered it over her head, and began to lace up the back. "Emma, you didn't warn me how torturous this would be." His voice plummeted to a low baritone overflowing with huskiness.

Warm lips pressed against her shoulder as he tugged a lace. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. "Jason, we can't for a few days."

He growled deep in his chest and pulled her closer. "I can desire you without it resulting in a baby, wife."

Her back rested against hard muscles and his desire became apparent. A soft gasp escaped when his hands glided down between her legs. Her knees buckled and she reached behind to grab his shoulders as he tugged her closer and created beautiful magic. "Jason, make love to me. We haven't consummated the bedroom yet." His response simply made the world explode in the next instant.

As the shudders of the after effects faded, she lifted her head from his shoulder where he sat on the edge of the bed with her curled in his lap. "That doesn't count, you know. Are you only going to make love to me when we're trying to have a baby?"

A smiled touched his mouth and he brushed a lock of hair from her face. "No. I simply had to have you before I could get the condoms from the nightstand."

Her eyebrow rose. "And when did you purchase those?"

A rakish smile flashed his teeth. "At the airport layover on the way home - when you were in the restroom. Come, we should get ready for our dinner. I will ravish you after we dance." He stood and set her to her feet.

She laughed, a boldness growing as she let go of his neck. "I suspect I'll be tired tomorrow."

With a cock of his eyebrow and a naughty smile, he met her eyes. "Ah promise ye be exhausted, lass." His burr leaked out thick and melodious.

"You cannot cheat with your accent!" She swatted his arm with a grin.

He silenced her with a kiss.

* * *

It made sense why women used to have fans in the old days. She could've used one to cool herself from his intense gaze during dinner. The man sat several seats away in the dark, but the heat of his eye should've sent her up in flames. Even the slight lisp without having the mask or bandage to serve as a lip endeared her heart.

"Your gracefulness, even in simple tasks such as lifting a fork, leaves me desiring more of your beauty, Emma." Before she could respond to that gorgeous poetry, he continued. "I imagine you heard of the incident in the news out east? What is your opinion on the matter?"

She smiled. Thank heavens it wouldn't be a showering of compliments throughout dinner. It was pleasing that he didn't let lust make him forget about her mind. The conversation steered to an amicable but lively intellectual debate.

The smile remained apparent in his voice as she set down her fork on the empty plate. His silverware continued to clank. "That is a fine point that I have not heard from anyone else, my dear." Silence for a moment, as if he chewed a bite. "I turned down the job." His voice fell quiet and tentative.

"I'm glad, Jay. I know you were torn, and I think you would've been wonderful at it...but I also think it would've aged and haunted you."

"I think you're right. However, I thought about your advice. I would like to be an investor. It would mean short trips to Texas twice a year, though, for meetings."

She nodded. "I think you'll be happy as an investor who has some say."

"Would you be agreeable if I offer him three hundred thousand for the start-up?"

That had to have been misheard. She blinked. "You're asking me? That's your money - "

"No, it is _our_ money. I'm not going to take that much from our account without discussing it with you."

Raising her eyebrows, she sat back in the chair. "You're wise with money. If you feel it's a good investment, I have no objections."

"No, it's not _my_ decision, it's _ours_. You must feel comfortable with this too." He wanted to see her confidence, apparently.

"Alright. What is his career experience, how much does he need for a start-up total, what are the costs - "

"Hold on." He laughed. "One question at a time, sweetheart."

By the end of the conversation, she set down the glass of wine and looked in his general direction. "Those are the reasons why I disagree with giving him three hundred thousand. If he's willing to reassess what I think is a poor shortcut to save money, I would say we give him three hundred fifty thousand."

"Incredible. And you would not be on the Foundation board. If he agrees to make that modification, three hundred fifty it is. Excellent, Emma. I would not have seen that glitch until weeks down the road."

He opened the door to the question that had eaten her stomach out. "Jason?" She swallowed hard and fingered the stem of her wine glass. "If I had been on the board, could my vote have stopped them from...?"

A heavy sigh filled the silence. "Unfortunately, you would've been outvoted. But I appreciate the support." His silverware finally silenced. "Emma, one of the VPs from the Foundation was distressed and contacted me today."

The tone alone formed a pit in her stomach.

"The Foundation is moving to be for-profit." Heartbreak filled his voice.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, Jason. There's nothing you can do about it, is there?"

"I no longer have any more say than Prince would." He sighed.

"Jason? For what it's worth, I wish I would've taken the board position. I would've liked working with you."

"Thank you, Emma. I would've liked it too, and you would've been incredible. This is no further than the abstract idea stage, but what would you think of a nonprofit teenage rehab center? But more than a center - a drug rehab, a church, a school, a job...everything to help them get their lives back on track."

"A place that could've intervened for you." She bit her lip and contemplated it.

"What's your hesitation? You only bite your lip like that when you're worried. I want brutal honesty."

Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath. He might not like this. "Alright, brutal honesty. Some of these kids aren't going to straighten out their lives no matter how hard you try. You were a rare exception."

"I know, Emma." He seemed to hesitate.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, sweetheart. Would you like to dance?"

Something dampened his mood. He made no move toward romance, even when he helped her out of the dress in the bedroom. So she showered and had high hopes that he would come. She stepped out of the bathroom in a towel with a shy smile. Perhaps outright enticing would work.

He stood up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze intense and serious as he held out the nightgown she'd left behind intentionally. Golden, romantic firelight danced across the room.

Padding over to him, she dropped the towel at her ankles and looked up from beneath her lashes.

It didn't faze him. "Get dressed, Em." Gentle solemness filled his voice.

With a frown of confusion, she took the nightgown.

Agony filled his voice. "I want you, but we need to talk. And you aren't going to want to be undressed for this."

Her brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?" She pulled on the nightgown.

He lifted her hair out and then stroked her cheek, as if memorizing the touch like he couldn't ever do it again. "Emma, starting over won't work if there are walls left." He swallowed hard and released a shaky breath. "So we tear them down. Remember that you're under no obligation to stay. You need to see my face." With a shaking hand, he peeled the ski mask off and turned toward the firelight.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: Ahhh! So many reviews came flooding in! I think that's the most for one chapter! :) I worked hard on this one (laid up recovering from a dislocated jaw...I empathize with Jason's eating problems!), and hope it accurately came across that Emma isn't frightened but rather dealing with the the monsters of her past and the monster that Jason had put in her head.**

* * *

He peeled back the mask and turned to the firelight. She dropped her eyes to the floor. "Jason, are you sure? You said you never wanted me to see." Her heart shot into her throat. This came so sudden.

"This isn't a marriage." His voice quivered. "If we have a chance of saving it, it's now. I won't have you wake from a nightmare and be afraid to tell me that you remembered. Or remember it worse than it actually is." Then his voice lowered and grew thick. "I have no right to keep you trapped by keeping you in the dark. If you decide you want your freedom, I'll give it without a fight." His voice broke on those last words.

A divorce. Tears burned behind her eyes. "Your heart is what holds me here, Jason, not how you look." He crushed the mask in his hands, but he still trembled. She reached out and set her hands over his and bowed her head as she stepped closer. Blood roared in her ears. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"It's what will save our marriage. Yes, it's what I want." He didn't take her hands but instead his knuckles whitened as he gripped the mask harder, as if bracing for her reaction.

She stared at her hands laid over his. He seemed ready for the worst. The lengths he had gone to not let her see, to not 'frighten' her all these months. The nightmares he spoke of if she saw. The lack of mirrors in the house. The names of 'beast' and 'monster' and 'creature' that he called himself. His vague descriptions over the months of the injuries. So much hung on her reaction. Her heart pounded not with anticipation or relief or joy that this might save the marriage. It beat with fear. "Jason," her voice quivered, "you've taught me to be afraid so I would never look." Then she whispered, "And I am."

He tucked the mask into his pocket and then took her trembling hands in his shaking ones. With both of their hands holding tight, the trembles ceased.

"I know that I put a monster in your head. For that, I am forever sorry. I do not expect you to not react in fear because of it; it is unfair of me to ask otherwise. I would offer to not look at your reaction, but if you choose to stay, I must know how frightened I truly make you. Just remember that I won't harm you. If you run, don't be scared that I'll chase. I expect that you'll want to flee and it will be to the safe distance of your old room. I promise I won't follow."

Her brow furrowed and she swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "Don't say such things. It only frightens me."

"You need to know that you can escape."

The monster only grew bigger at his words, though. Taking a deep breath, she slowly lifted her head.

It was so much worse than imagined and yet not half as frightening. His crushed face had minimal shape. Warped, bubbled white and pinkish flesh draped the right half of his head. Where an eye should've been, a deep sunken hole remained. The reconstruction of his ear had gotten only as far as a small lump around the ear canal. The edge of his nose pulled taught into the sea of scars. His mouth...his poor, beautiful mouth forever froze in a snarl and pulled downward far past his gum line, nearly halfway into his chin. It was the snarl, so cold and violent, that gave her pause. Then her eyes darted to the gentle, kind left side of his face. Grief and compassion and love resided in his eye that searched for hints of fear in her. That love melted some of the fear. Her eye returned to his mouth. No wonder why he had such difficulty eating and needed to always wear an absorbent bandage. Below his lip, either the jaw bone had been crushed so badly or the scars were so thick that there remained little jawline definition where it warped down into his neck.

His fears made more sense - this side did seem unnatural and disturbing because this man shouldn't be alive. Her eyes flitted back to his mouth. That would take time to get used to - the snarl seemed so angry and full of hatred...like Gaston. She blinked and shoved the horrid thought away. This was Jason, a good and gentle man. Anger rose up at herself for likening Jason to such a monster.

This half of his face looked like a shock-value creature created for a horror movie. It was frightening - frightening what the fire had done to his body and what he had been forced to endure. The pain and blood and horrific trauma he must've gone though...her stomach rolled and churned. He had allowed touches and described the scars in the past, but nothing could've prepared for actually seeing what he'd suffered. Oh god, the physical pain - he'd once alluded to the pain of the bandage changes. All the skinnings to his thighs to try to replace tissue loss on his face and skull...dear Lord, the pain and blood it would've entailed. The room dipped.

"Stop thinking about it. Sit before you faint." He jerked her arm down and plopped her on the bed as he pulled the mask back on. His voice came strong and more like himself. Then he knelt and pushed her head between her knees as he rubbed her legs to get the blood back to her brain.

Even the tears were too shocked to come. She lifted her head and reached a hand out to touch his chest, to reassure that this wasn't a dream. He pulled his hands away and remained still, as if not to frighten her. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, how she had planned on reacting. She was supposed to give him words of love and kisses and lovemaking to prove things had not changed. It was hard to wrap coherent thought around the shock. "Jason," she whispered, "I know you tried to explain, but I didn't understand..."

"Are you frightened?" His words came soft but without fear like he didn't worry that she'd run away.

She stared at him, trying to piece together coherent thought, trying to comprehend her own emotions. "Not of you but that you survived." And the horrific reality of what had happened to him hit like a freight train, crushing and exploding and shredding apart her heart in a catastrophic, fatal crash. Her face crumpled and she held a had over her mouth, the pain ripping apart everything inside and hurling the shrapnel. She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and holding fistfuls of his shirt as the sobs tore free.

He held out his hands in surrender, as if not believing it. Then he crushed her against him and sank to the floor. The man cradled her in his lap like he held the greatest treasure in the world. His face buried in her hair. "Oh god," he whispered, "I didn't think you'd want me to touch you again." Waves of relief slammed from him. And then his chest heaved. And then his shoulders until finally he burst into silent sobs himself. "You know. Oh god, you finally know."

The salvation in his voice cut deep inside and pain reverberated. All the fear in him fled as the fortress around his heart collapsed into a pile of rubble.

When the last tear had been spent, she remained curled in his lap and exhausted as she silently stroked his chest. "I didn't mean to lose it. I pictured making love to you to prove that the scars change nothing. But they change everything - I love you so much more for your courage and grace, not only for having gotten through it but for showing me." She sat up and looked into his red-rimmed eye that had never been more gorgeous.

"You do not even understand how amazing you are. Emma, your reaction..." He swallowed hard and shook his head as his voice cracked. "I knew you weren't going to run as soon as you paled. A woman who is horrified doesn't stop to think about what it was like for me to have gone through it. Your reaction was heartfelt and honest and spoke in a way that words never could. It was perfect. I know how blessed I am to have a woman who can see beneath the scars..." His voice failed. "I just need time to absorb this all first. _We_ need to absorb this." His eye searched her face.

She nodded and got up, sensing his need for private reflection as much as her own. Then she held down her hand.

He looked up, looking uncertain of the gesture.

A smile bloomed. "It is the age of equality. I am allowed to be a little chivalrous now and then."

That won a smile and he took her hand, although he didn't actually use it. "Thank you." But he didn't let go and his smile faded. "You need time to absorb this too. You'll likely have nightmares about me tonight. Do you want to sleep in your own room?"

"Not unless you wish me to."

He shook his head...and a soft smile came from his heart.

Horrific nightmares of the fire and his face melting off came that night.

She shot awake with a pounding heart and shaking hands from the terror. Needing to make sure he was alright because it seemed so real, she stroked the left side of his face in the dark and laid a hand over his heart. It beat calm and steady.

He stirred. "Em?"

"I had a nightmare about the accident. Your screams sounded so real." Tears fell.

"No, sweetheart." He pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around so her head rested on his shoulder. "I was unconscious in the fire. It didn't hurt, Emma." Then he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Don't cry." He brushed away her tears. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, we need to sleep."

"Is it alright if I hold you?" When she pressed as close as humanly possible, his soft chuckle filled the air.

"You realize what an idiot you've been this past year?" she whispered.

"Aye, lass. Ah love ye so much."

"I love you."

 _Horrific screaming filled the sterile, white operating room. She crept closer to the table, her heart racing, somehow sensing they operated without anesthetic. The surgeon cut off tissues from the thighs of a man. "Gag him. Dammit, how am I supposed to work with all this screaming," the surgeon snapped._

 _That voice. Blood froze in her veins. Oh god. Gaston._

 _The nurses, blocking her view, gagged the poor soul. But his tortured screams still filled the air._

 _Then Gaston moved to the man's head with a scalpel. She shoved through the nurses to stop him and her heart stopped. Gaston peeled charred flesh off Jason's face. She screamed and reached for Jason. Jason's scream ripped out in blood-curdling pain._

She shot up. "Jason!" she screamed in horror. Blackness. Blackness everywhere. Gaston had taken him.

"What?! What?!"

Jason's voice came from the right. A drape whipped open and firelight flooded in. He sat in bed and reached for her.

Bursting into tears, she scrambled into his lap and relayed the horrific nightmare.

"Emma, I promise I didn't feel the fire or any surgeries. Yes, it hurt in the hospital, but never did I scream from the pain. They gave me strong narcotics, and most of the nerves were damaged, sweetheart."

"You wouldn't tell me if you did scream," she wept on his shoulder.

A long-winded sigh released. "Sweetheart, it's the truth and I need you to believe me. I think we need to talk about this now before you have more nightmares."

She huddled closer and shook her head.

"Why? Emma, do you remember when I had the eye surgery? The cerebrospinal fluid leaking caused the worst migraine I've ever had and I don't know if they went too shallow for the skin graft, but my thigh hurt something fierce. Those things combined were a lot of pain. You saw what that was like, love. And my teeth being extracted - you were there for that. That was a bitch, pardon the French."

"But, I burned my finger on the oven once and it blistered. It was just two digits long and made me cry."

"Yes, but that was the first couple days and then it didn't hurt so much, right?"

She nodded.

"I was sedated the first couple days, Emma. The worst of the pain had passed by the time I woke up." He stroked her hair. "The idea of the pain bothers you more than my actual scars, doesn't it?"

Again, she nodded.

"Oh, my angel." He rocked her in his arms. "It does not hurt at all anymore. Please don't be frightened by what never happened and is in the past. Would it help you to feel and see that they don't hurt?"

Feeling would paint a better picture of the trauma. She shook her head.

He laid down and draped her over his chest. "Sleep, sweetheart. Everything is alright."

A soft stroking on her back relaxed the tension from the muscles and sleep eventually returned.

* * *

She sat at her desk before sunrise to get some work done and avoid sleep so more nightmares wouldn't come. The last dream had been about the dental surgery, filled with screams and gore and torture.

"Emma? It's five o'clock." Jason padded in wearing the ski mask and a robe.

Every muscle tensed. Seeing him brought flashbacks of the nightmares. And the confusion and...worry about what it would feel like seeing the scars again now knowing what to expect. He needed to have a wife who loved and accepted him enough that he should be able to walk free in his own house without a mask. But what if he'd been right that it would be hard to desire his touch with his face exposed? What if all she could see was the gore that had happened to him? What if he saw that split second of hesitation that had the power to inflict so much damage in him and the marriage? She dropped her eyes to the computer so he wouldn't see that his face caused so much turmoil inside.

He eased into the chair. "You had more nightmares." It was a statement of realization. "Of what?"

"The dental surgery." She blinked back the tears and kept typing.

"Emma, you have a big heart. I suspect there is more confusion and turmoil inside than just being worried about the pain I did or didn't have. You won't even look at me because you're trying to hide something."

She bit her lip and her fingers stilled, but she needed to get these emotions under control before looking at him.

"Do you fear me or the scars?" No anger or resentment or offense colored his tone.

"The nightmares simply disturbed me." She took a deep breath to relax.

"If you aren't honest, we won't get through this. Emma, it's normal to be frightened of what doesn't look natural."

A frowned pulled down her mouth. "I'm not frightened of you."

"I know. It's not me or the flesh, but the right side in its entirety like it is a separate being resembling horror and torture and pain."

Her eyes flew to him. In a single sentence, he described exactly what had been impossible to put into words yet.

"I felt the same way. At times I still do. It disturbs me to look at it; how could it not bother others? The abstractness of it not looking like a face but not being an object is hard to grasp. For a time, your mind will separate me from the right side that I taught you to fear."

Her heart stumbled. He understood.

"If the scars are not masked, your mind will have a sense of not just kissing me but almost something else too. Something dark and unnatural. I understand the confusion you're feeling, Emma. Plus, I taught you there is a part of me to be feared - I gave no thought with your history as to how you would struggle with feeling safe if I let that monster loose. The mask will help in not seeing the scars but knowing what lies beneath - in time you will learn to associate it as part of me and nothing more."

Her eyebrows rose as he explained it all so easily and clearly when it had been such a tangled jumble in her head.

"It will take time for you to feel comfortable with me outside of darkness - I will keep the scars covered until you feel completely safe, and then anything beyond that will be gradual steps and only as far as you wish."

She searched his eye that held so much patience and empathy. "I wish for you to feel comfortable to move about your own home without the mask."

"In time, perhaps we will reach that level. We take things slow and be patient with ourselves."

A confidence and strength flowed from him as it hadn't in the time since meeting him. "Where has this man been?"

He smiled and pushed himself up. "The hardest part is done, and you chose to not run. If last night didn't prove that you won't leave, turning to me for comfort after those nightmares did. Now comes the part I can help you get through, and I have been there." The man folded his hands behind his back. "I will slay the monster that I released in your head. I forced us back many steps, but we have a strength now that didn't exist before. I'll court you and make you feel safe, Emma. I vow that I will right this. I'm here if you want to talk; otherwise, I'll give you space to digest." With a single nod in departure, he left.

It was the most beautiful quest of love. And her knight vowed to embark on it. For her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: For the part where she finds him in his workroom, I listened to Billy Currington's We Are Tonight for the energy. For the bedroom scene was Taylor Swift's Out of the Woods - I rarely listen to a song for it's words but more for the beat or energy while I'm writing. Out of the Woods chorus fit this perfectly because of what Jason and Emma are going through. :) Thanks for the reviews! It's like Christmas and makes not feeling well less miserable! :)**

* * *

She tied her hair up in a ponytail and wandered the house over the lunch hour, restless and contemplating everything since last night yet. Opening a door in the back hall under the stairs, she frowned. Rather than a closet, stairs led down. A light glowed. Jason reiterated over and over that it was her home now and she was free to go anywhere, so she walked down the circular winding stone steps. A creepy aura clung in the air. Dank stone walls led down a corridor where another light at the end glowed. Bars lined small rooms on each side...as if this had once been a dungeon.

Swallowing hard, she crept forward but kept to the shadows. The atmosphere lended itself to the imagination. It might be a thief or murderer hunkered down here, planning to come upstairs tonight and slay everyone during the night. Why hadn't she brought Prince? The door upstairs was open, so her screams would echo to where someone would hear. She peeked in just as a huge body came out. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

A deep yelp of surprise echoed down the corridor with her scream.

She grabbed her heart that threatened to break through her chest.

"Bloody hell, Emma! What are you doing down here?" Jason held a hand over his heart too.

"I found the staircase and was..."

"Curious?" He cracked a smile. "Dear god, I feel the plaque flowing." He let go of his chest. "You're too brave for your own good. Ms. Van Hoodie is too frightened to come down here, and Stevens isn't fond of it either."

"What's in there?" She leaned to the side to look around him into the small room.

He stepped into her line of vision. "Nothing."

"Something or you wouldn't tell me nothing." She smiled and hopped to look over his shoulder. A workbench filled with wood shavings and tools sat tucked against the far wall. "Do you do woodworking?"

"Emma, upstairs." His tone came out a bit frustrated.

"Is this where you disappear to?" Her smile turned up to him. It felt comfortable like the old days talking to him like this. "Can I watch you make whatever it is?"

The man heaved a deep sigh. "It is and this item was supposed to be a surprise." He stepped aside.

She walked over to the bench. A soft gasp of surprise escaped her. On the bench laid a piece of wood shaped like a hairbrush. A beautiful rose bloomed from the back and a stem morphed into the handle. Most of the rose remained a block of wood yet.

He stepped beside her. "Ms. Van Hoodie mentioned that you admired a hairbrush at the market. I've seen it - it's cheap plastic that will break. I don't know if this will be too heavy or even work, but I wanted to try."

"May I?" When he nodded, she picked it up and turned it.

"Obviously it's not done. I'm going to try carving scrolling into the stem - just a bit to decorate it more. I'm not gifted with painting like you are, so I planned on simply staining and varnishing it. Although how to get the bristles in for the brush is still alluding me."

She smiled. It would be ornate and beautiful how he described the details. "I love it. You didn't need to make me one." She beamed up at him. "It's romantic."

A flush crept up his neck. "I wish to make you gifts now and then." His eye locked with hers.

Her heart beat faster and part of her waited for a kiss...and the other part remained unsure, a little afraid of the shadow of a monster he'd taught her that hid underneath.

He wanted the kiss, if his intimate gaze and still posture meant anything. But he wasn't going to act on it. His eye shifted away, as if realizing it would be pushing to move in for a kiss.

Hell, maybe it was time to be pushed. She shot up onto her toes, caught his face between her hands, and kissed him.

The man didn't react.

She pulled back but didn't let go. A huge blue eye stared back in shock. This was Jason, not a man or creature to fear, not an embodiment of pain and horror, just...Jason. With a smile, she pulled him down again and her tongue dove into his mouth. And he returned the kiss. Her blood pumped. Her heart raced with excitement. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her onto his hips. She deepened the kiss. He tugged her ponytail free. She tugged up his shirt. His breath mingled with hers.

"Wait," he panted and pulled his head back but kept ahold of her on his hips. "Are you certain?"

"Shut up and stop ruining the moment, Jay," she panted. Then she captured his mouth again.

His shoulders shook and he pulled free as a belly laugh burst out. "Damn, this is hot, but our protection is upstairs. And even I would be a bit creeped out taking you in the dark down here."

She hopped down out of his arms and backed up to the door with a grin. "Scaredy cat." Things had been far too serious lately. A game of chase to the bedroom with her best friend had been long overdue.

He grinned and darted forward.

A squeal of surprise peeled from her as she spun around and tore through the dungeon and up the stairs, his footsteps close behind. His laughter kept the monsters in hiding. She nearly ran into Trudy on the way through the foyer. When she glanced back to see how close he was, Trudy's mouth fell open when Jason followed hot on her heels. A laugh bubbled up and she took the stairs two at a time. Jason's laugh jingled with hers and fingers slipped off her hip as she escaped him at the top of the stairs. His room was just down the hall. She looked over her shoulder with a smile. Happiness glowed from him as he closed the distance.

She reached for the doorframe to help make a tight turn, but a squeak of surprise escaped when she slid right past on the runner over the hardwood floor.

He laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her into her bedroom. Then he tugged her into his arms and his smile faded. "You don't need to do this, Em. I expected you needing at least a couple weeks before we make love."

Resting her hands on his chest, she searched his eye. "In the dark. Show me the man from Scotland is still there."

"What time do you need to be back for work?"

"One fifteen." She unbuttoned his white dress shirt.

He glanced at his watch. "Forty-five minutes. I can be quick and make forty-five work." Then he winked.

She burst out laughing. "Sure, Mr. Stud."

As if to prove his point, he threw their clothes as he backed her into his room. Even though the man seemed to be painfully ready for release, he kissed his way down her body. "You're so supple and beautiful. I wish for you to not wear clothes in my chambers at night." His voice dropped to a husky purr, his accent slipping out the smallest bit.

Her eyebrows rose as he knelt. "Are you being serious?"

The man looked up at her. "Aye. Are you ready for me yet, my Emma?" Then he pressed a kiss to her thigh and his hand slipped up her leg.

Her knees buckled and she gasped, grabbing the footboard for support as he wove his spell. Her heart slammed and her fingers buried in his silky hair as he kissed her belly and stroked the depth of her desire. "Jason," she whimpered.

He stood and swept her up in his strong arms against his beautiful body. As he laid her on the bed, soft kisses sprinkled her face and arms and chest and neck. "Do you feel safe?" His whispered words danced to her ears.

Closing her eyes from the pleasure of his gentleness, she nodded against the pillow and arched her neck to give him better access as he kissed. The bed shifted and she opened her eyes. He pulled the last drape and crawled closer before being enveloped in the blackness. Instead of fear, erotic desire bloomed and she held out her arms for him.

A knee nudged hers apart and the bed flexed as a hand leaned down near her hip. His shoulders appeared under her hands and the soft hair of his legs tickled hers. She tangled her legs with his. The bed shifted as he crawled closer and his body heat warded off the cold. Her arms curled around his shoulders as he eased his weight down. His heart beat against her chest as fast as hers, and his lips brushed over her mouth. The mask grazed her cheek.

Her tongue danced with his as the passion built. She reached up and eased the mask away from his face, the kiss fading away. The tape audibly peeled, and she stilled so as not to hurt him. His hand covered hers to stop her. He'd press the mask back on. Her heart fell. But, his hand helped pull. Then he slipped it from her and the mask clattered to the floor.

She raised her head and found his lips again, leaving the bandage on his mouth so he wouldn't have trouble. Her right hand cupped his face to reassure her mind it was him.

"You're safe," he whispered against her lips. His tender kiss quieted the demons. "Do you want to be on top so you don't get frightened?"

Shaking her head against his lips, she wrapped her legs around his thighs and ran her hands down the beautiful thick muscling of his back. She kissed his shoulder and cupped his lower back.

His hips lowered and he nuzzled her neck. "Ah love ye, Emma," he breathed as his back coiled.

"I - " Her mouth parted in soft awe as he joined her body. It was like coming home, not even realizing half of her soul had been missing for weeks until this moment. Her body eased up in a graceful arch to meet him. Her hands tightened and her heart exploded with love. Wave after wave washed over her soul as his back curled with beautiful gracefulness. "I love you, Jay," she whispered, her soul satisfied even before her body.

* * *

She sat at the dinner table in the light of the single candle and waited for him, her toes curling at the memory of this afternoon. He was a very good lover and had indeed taken up every one of those forty-five minutes. Smoothing a hand over the short black lace dress, she drew a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her belly.

"Good evening. Forgive my tardiness." He entered and bowed over her hand, grazing a kiss over the back of it.

"'Evening. Trudy said that you requested the meal tonight." Meaning he'd be dining with her again. She bit back the smile.

"I did." He stepped behind the chair and leaned down, brushing a kiss over the curve of her neck.

She gasped in a sudden breath of desire. "Don't poke the tiger, Jay."

"Did I not please you well enough earlier?" His hot whisper brushed her cheek. The soft chuckle had no ounce of remorse when her face flamed. "I didn't wish for you to be too tired for bed tonight." His fingers grazed over the low dip of her dress. "I promise to satisfy you better tonight, sweetheart." Then he melted into the blackness on the right side of the table and his chair scraped.

Any better and it'd be the end of her. "Liar. You test to see if I'll desire you again or if it was a fleeting affair."

The smile colored his words. "Guilty as charged. It satisfies a man to see his wife hungry again mere hours later. Your desire today took me by surprise. I'm pleased that you trust me more than I anticipated."

A soft smile touched her lips. "I overheard you on the phone in your office for quite awhile this evening. Is everything alright?"

"I actually wished to discuss that with you."

Trudy entered with a big smile and set down the plates. "Anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you, Ms. Van Hoodie. This looks divine." Then Trudy left. "As you know, the Foundation is for sale."

Her stomach fell. It always came back to this. "Honey, I know it broke your heart and you poured years of blood and sweat into it, but..."

"It's for sale illegally. Ms. Williamson brought the bylaws to my attention - I can't believe I was stupid enough to not look at this. I was so blindsided that I wasn't thinking straight." He slid a thick packet over.

She skimmed the page. Every single member of the board had to be present to vote for the removal of the CEO and it had to be a seventy-five percent majority vote. She frowned and looked at him. "It wasn't a seventy-five percent?"

He scooted into a chair within reach of the candlelight. A smile beamed across his face. "Emma, I was so upset that I kicked Ms. Williamson out of the meeting when she started having a meltdown. She's on the board as the secretary."

Her heart beat faster. "And the vote percentage?"

His smile grew. "Sixty percent. Emma, everyone was so up in arms that no one checked the bylaws."

"Oh my god, you're still CEO." Her mouth fell open.

He reached out and laid his hand over hers. "They're holding an emergency meeting tomorrow because Ms. Williamson brought this to everyone's attention at the board meeting today. She slipped me the phone call this evening after work. It's being kept underwraps, but I'm flying out tomorrow. Perhaps my presence will reassure anyone who thinks I'm not committed. Come with me, Emma." He glowed with happiness.

She laid her other hand over his. "Jason, I don't mean to not sound supportive because I am and I'll come, but I don't want you to be crushed if they do vote you out again."

His smile faded and his gaze fell to the table. "I know. If they voted to make it a for-profit, I don't know that they'll take me. Perhaps some of them will rethink it after having seen what it's like to have someone else as CEO. Or maybe not." His eye rose to her. "I left last time so humiliated that I regret not saying goodbye to some people. It's at least a chance for that. It's at least going down with a fight." His hand tightened in hers. "The biggest mistake was not taking you. If you're there, it doesn't leave time to be too humiliated to face you."

Her heart melted. He knew full well that this would likely be a losing battle. "Jay, there is never any reason to not come home. You could gamble away everything, get fired, drink yourself into a stupor, and come home in rags and I'll still love you. I might be pissed as hell, but..."

He burst out laughing, his eye positively shining with hope. "I can promise never to do that, so I suppose I don't have anything to worry about."

She scooted her chair closer and wrapped an arm around his. "I hope tomorrow goes well, but nothing changes if it doesn't. Remember you have nothing to lose that you don't already know you can get through."

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her lips. "Thank you, Emma."

"For what?"

Tenderness filled his eye. "Three weeks ago I thought I'd lost everything and worst of all: you. I was my own worst enemy and I know I made your life hell for awhile too. And yet when everything came crashing down and the dust settled, you were still standing there. It..." His voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat and looked down at her hands. "It feels so good to know that you've seen me at my absolute worst and know all my secrets. That I can go out and fail and still come back to you without being loved any less."

"Oh, my Jay." She stroked the hair at his temple and tilted her head to catch his eye. "That's called family. Trudy and Pete and Mom and Nana and others are there for you too like that. It might be a little weird if Pete holds you and gives you kisses when you're upset but..."

That earned a watery laugh from him. He swallowed hard and met her gaze. "You're an amazing spouse, Emma. I know I haven't been easy to be married to. I...I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say." He took an unsteady breath. "I love you and I deeply cherish you. I want you to know that I'm here like that for you too."

She smiled and blinked back tears. "I know you are, Jay. You've proven it through coming to the trial and...a thousand other times that I can't even count anymore. It means a lot to hear you say all of this. I love you." She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

At the end of dinner when he finished, she stood and gathered her dishes as he collected his. Then he appeared in the candlelight and eased hers out of her hands.

"I can carry them myself, you know."

"You can do many things yourself just fine. I'm simply being a gentleman." Then he offered his arm as he took the dirty dishes.

Trudy and Pete cleaned up in the kitchen. Trudy frowned when she spotted the plates. "You don't need to be bringing them like a dog with a dead mouse, sir." She hurried forward and took the items.

"You mean a cat with a mouse," he corrected, seeming a bit exasperated with the woman's strange metaphors.

"No, a cat's duty is to bring a dead mouse. A dog has no business doing it, just like you have no business being the maid, don'tcha know."

She burst out laughing. "Oh, Trudy, all this time we've underestimated you. There is more logic to your metaphors than I realized."

Trudy frowned. "Of course there is. I ain't a parrot in the asylum."

A blank look crossed Jason's face.

Trudy sighed in exasperation. "I don't repeat nonsense like a crazy person. Jesus blessed ya with a brain like yours and you don't eat my tapioca. The Lord bless you." She took the dishes over to the sink. Pete wisely kept his mouth shut.

Jason frowned. "What on earth does tapioca have to do with my brain?"

"Hootin' blowfish, it would put a lick of sense in it so you wouldn't look at me dumbfounded half the time. Look at how glowing she looks, don'tcha know. She eats my tapioca and it's done her a world of good. The girl doesn't look like a pile of pencils anymore, she's hearty and ready for the babies."

She smothered a smile seeing Jason taken to task.

"You have a bluish tint under your eye. You're gettin' ill because you won't eat my tapioca, don'tcha know." Trudy pulled out a bowl of her magic food. "You eat this." She loaded a bowl full of it.

He took a step back and held up a hand. Trudy plopped a hand on her hip and scowled.

She took the tapioca before the two of them got in an arguement. "Thank you, Trudy."

"You eat some too so you don't catch it." Trudy plopped another big spoonful in the bowl before Jason whisked her out.

"Jay, she just wants to take care of you."

"She wants to kill me with it. I don't know how you can eat that goo." He climbed the stairs, still holding her elbow.

She laughed. "It has to be a Scottish aversion. It's like cottage cheese. It's good for you - she puts 'those probiotisios' in them." She smiled at Trudy's apparent disability in being able to say 'probiotics.'

He simply snorted. "We must leave at seven, so it's best to call it an early night, sweetheart."

She took his arm and glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall. "It's only eight."

"And I have nearly three weeks to make up for." He tugged her in his bedroom and shut the door before letting go of her.

She frowned. "Make up for what?" Scooping another spoonful of tapioca in her mouth, she watched him make a beeline for his nightstand as he threw his suit jacket on the nearest chair. When he pulled out 'the' box, her cheeks burned. "Oh."

He dropped it on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. "Emma, I need you now. I'm not kidding." His shirt went flying. The man did certainly seem to be straining his pants.

With a smile, she set down the bowl on the dresser. She folded her hands behind her back and batted her eyes. "You're wasting a lot of time stripping, Jay." She lifted an edge of the short dress to reveal thigh-high stockings.

"Oh dear Lord," he groaned in agony and shot over. He slipped off her panties and lifted her onto his hips. "Emma, this is so hot I'm not going to last long."

She giggled and held onto his shoulders to push herself up so he had room put on protection. Then when he pressed her up against the wall and pulled her back down for a kiss, she hit the lightswitch. He pulled off the mask and it clattered to the left on the dresser as his mouth crushed hers.

The tip of her nose grazed his scars. It used to elicit feelings of intimacy and love and trust - now it brought up fear of the horror and pain those scars represented. "Take me," she whispered against his lips. Only pushing to the edge of the fear would eventually slay the nerves. "I don't want to be your boring wife, I want to be the forbidden fruit." The passion would keep the demons away. His hunger would make him hold her close in the safety of his arms.

He groaned deep in his chest. "Emma, you'll never be boring," he panted. Then he kissed below her ear, perhaps sensing the distress building in the kiss to her lips.

The scars on his shoulder that had not once caused a second thought, now flashed those terrible nightmares. Letting go, she held onto his bicep instead.

"Don't be frightened, Emma," he whispered and flicked his hot, soft tongue just under her ear. "It's just me, sweetheart."

The pressure of his invasion tensed every muscle and halted his progress. The demons poked fun and laughed, creating a jumble of confusion...going so far as to flash images of Gaston skinning Jason in the nightmare. Gaston. The blood. The pain. The struggle. The police. Stress mounted. Jason had too many monsters to fight. It was impossible.

He let go with one hand and leaned more of her weight against the wall, at some point having withdrawn from her body. Then he lifted her hand to stroke the left side of his face. "It's just us, Emma. We aren't going to let the monsters make you afraid of me. Paint me, sweetheart." Then his hand slipped between their bodies and called back the pleasure. "I love you."

Ice cold claws of the monsters wrapped around her arms and legs. "Gaston - "

"Is not here. He has no power over you," he whispered and pulled his hand away. His lips brushed over her neck. He held tighter. "I'm right here."

The monsters pulled, trying to drag her backwards into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck, her heart racing to outrun the fear. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

His arm around her tightened. The other hand buried in her hair and cradled her head. "Let the monsters come. I've got you, sweetheart. Let the flashbacks come. I'll find you, Emma."

She shook her head and clung tighter, squeezing her eyes shut as the monsters pulled harder.

"I won't let go." He pulled her arm down and laced his fingers with hers, squeezing in a fierce grip that wouldn't let anything tear them apart.

The demons tore her out of his arms and ripped out memories buried deep inside. Gaston's face flashed. Jason's. The scars. Gaston's face peeled off to reveal one half as Jason's scars, morphing into a horrible monster. Her arms and legs clung tighter to Jason. His hand squeezed harder and he said something but it didn't filter through all the terror. Pounding heart. Clothes ripping. Screams. Agony. A whimper. Shaking her head didn't make the monster disappear.

"Emma," Jason's voice snapped, tearing Gaston in half, right down the middle.

It wasn't real. Flinging a hand out, she slapped the lightswitch to send the monsters away and her eyes shot open.

He whipped his bare head to the side and down out of view.

With shaking hands and frightened tears, she caught his face in her hands. Turning lifting his face, her tears spilled over when his blue eye met hers. Her chest still heaved from fear. The warped, bumpy scars were warm and softer than expected as she stroked a hand down his cheek. This was part of Jason, not the pain and violence of Gaston.

"It's just me." He whispered, as if afraid of frightening her.

She didn't let go of the scarred side and laid her head on his shoulder. His heart beat strong and steady against her chest. "I love you," she whispered.


	29. Chapter 29

She woke up to the firelight dancing across the bed. The curtain on Jason's side of the empty bed was pulled back. "Jason?" She peeked out. The hallway door sat open. Grabbing her robe, she followed the lights down the hall and tiptoed downstairs. The kitchen light flowed into the foyer, as well as Jason's voice.

"But there was so much terror in her eyes. She has to deal with that shitface's trauma and now this. I think she's scared of me when I don't have the mask on. Not that I'll actually hurt her, but what the scars symbolize. I suspect she sees him when she sees the scars."

She frowned and walked across the foyer. The clock ticked just after midnight. He couldn't possibly be on the phone at this hour.

"Did ya talk to her?" Trudy's voice flowed patient and motherly from the kitchen.

Her feet halted. The times she'd stumbled upon Jason confiding in Trudy were far and few between, but mostly when something deeply distraught him. About herself.

"I tried. She would barely speak to me after it happened, but she was very clingy. I think she feels guilty to tell me that my face causes flashbacks." So much distress filled his voice. "I thought I was helping things by showing her my face, but all I did was give her more nightmares."

"No, you didn't."

He snorted. "No, I did. She had horrid nightmares last night. Today I gave her flashbacks. Who knows what it'll be tomorrow. I'm terrifying my own wife. Goddammit, I knew I shouldn't have done it!" So much anger and self-hatred filled his voice.

"Not doing it would've withered the marriage like a frost, don'tcha know. Give her time. She doesn't have eyes."

"Pardon?"

"She doesn't have eyes," Trudy repeated, her tone as light as if discussing what to make for dinner. "She started to fall in love before seeing a hint of your face. She married you not seeing the scars, don'tcha know. The sweet thing has so obviously fallen more in love with you since last night - "

"Ms. Van Hoodie...I think you've gone daft. Emma couldn't possibly - "

She stepped in and leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms over her chest. "Perhaps you should ask Emma."

Jason shot to his feet, getting up a bit faster than usual at her entrance.

Trudy's face lit up. "A fish in the sea, that's a good idea." Then Trudy exited, with a pat on her arm on the way past.

"Emma, I - "

"Agreed to talk when things bothered us." She walked over and sat at the island chair beside him. "You didn't make a mistake, and you aren't giving me the nightmares. There are two monsters in my head merging together, and it's going to take time to get rid of them." She laid a hand over his on the counter and held his concerned gaze. "I didn't want to tell you what frightened me because I didn't want this to happen."

He sat silent and staring at the counter after she relayed the flashback. "I'm trusting you to be brutally honest, Emma. I vow I won't be upset if you're honest." Then his eye rose to hers. "Do you see something to fear under the mask? I'm not talking of beatings or violence; something that your instinctual reaction is to pull away?" The words flowed subdued and impregnated with sadness. "I beg you to be honest with yourself and me so I can help you." He turned in his seat to face her and took her hands.

She searched his face, trying to recall the knee-jerk emotions of what it felt like seeing his face. When he swallowed hard and eased off the mask, her heart took off and her eyes floated downward to his lap.

"Tell me what you're feeling. Tell me why you won't look."

Tears welled. "I'm scared that I won't ever be able to see you under the mask - that I'll always see fear and pain and torture. That Gaston's monster is just going to get stronger and eventually I'll be scared to see you without the mask."

He drew a shaky breath. "Why did you touch when you were scared?" The words whispered across the invisible distance growing wider.

She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. The shame bubbled bigger and bigger. "I'm not supposed to make you humiliated like this. I - "

"Emma, stop," he cooed. Warm hands rubbed her upper arms. "I'm not humiliated; I'm worried. You aren't doing anything wrong. Neither of us know how to navigate this, but we'll figure it out. We need to be patient with ourselves and each other. Pressuring yourself will make it worse, sweetheart."

Crawling into his lap, she laid her head on his chest and took deep breaths to calm down.

The man's arms slowly cocooned and he rubbed her back. "This. Tell me why when it upsets you that you come closer rather than run."

"Because it's safe."

He held tighter. "Why did you touch last night, Emma?" His voice came out no stronger than a whisper, as if afraid of breaking the spell.

"For reassurance that it was part of you and not him."

"Oh, my girl," he sighed. His cheek rested on top of her head. "Does it help you to touch?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it'd be worse." Her eyes drifted closed from the beat of his heart and the warmth of his heat.

"We have an early morning. Let's get to bed, sweetheart." He reached for the mask on the counter.

"The only way to get used to you is to not always wear the mask, Jay." She slipped it from his hand.

He stood with her in his arms like she weighed no more than air and carried her upstairs.

When he laid her on the soft mattress, she didn't let go of around his neck. Her fingers grazed the unfamiliar texture of the scars and she searched his eye. "Do you promise it doesn't hurt?" Tears burned.

He leaned his hands on each side of her on the bed, with her reflection shining in his eye. "Aye, sweetheart. It doesn't hurt anymore." His voice purred low and soothing. Then he caught her hand. "Don't be afraid of what isn't." His hand drifted over hers on the burns, and his eye fluttered shut.

The contours seemed strange and foreign, not mapping like a typical face. Her gaze followed and she glanced at his closed eye again. His head tilted into her palm, as if finding pleasure in being touched. "Do you feel me?"

"In my mind," he whispered. "Your fingers are smooth and feather-soft. You're warm and gentler than any touch I've ever known."

Tears blurred and then created a hot trail from the corner of her eye. How he suffered but wove beauty from it. The way he cradled her touch melted her heart into a puddle. A need to feed his terrible hunger, that no human should suffer, flickered stronger and stronger. Raising her head, she brushed a kiss over the warped flesh and rested her head back down.

His eye shot open and he stared for a moment before swallowing hard.

"Come to bed, Jay." She held out her arms to hold him.

* * *

The man walked into the Foundation the next morning with his head held high. The pride of walking on his arm swelled with each person who greeted him with smiles and handshakes and goodluck wishes. When her heart threatened to burst with pride, he pulled her into the elevator to go up to the corporate suite.

"I thought this was kept underwraps, Jay. Why is everyone wishing you good luck?"

He smiled but remained facing the elevator door. "Because, Emma, I asked Ms. Williamson to start the gossip one hour before our two-hour early arrival. That way the board would not have enough time to catch much wind of it. I'm counting on surprise and the support of staff to play in my favor."

She smiled at the crafty man. "I take it that the gossip is spreading too that you were dismissed without it being legal?"

"But of course." He turned his head and the smile reached his eye. "Are you certain that you want to be on the board if I'm voted in?"

"I am, Jay." She grinned and held his arm tighter.

The elevator doors opened. Ms. Williamson stood there with a huge grin, ready as if he hadn't missed a day. "Good morning, Dr. Port. Mrs. Port." She handed him the leather binder he'd used before, a pen and an agenda. "I was informed to move the meeting up one hour because Mr. Jenkins got word of you coming. I misplaced everyone's phone numbers, so I've been trying to find them. I think I'll find them once you're settled, sir."

Jason cracked a smile. "Thank you. I assume Mr. Jenkins is...?"

"In your office." She didn't seem at all pleased. "High and mighty he's been. Pompous - "

"We'll be in the conference room," he interrupted. "Please find my wife an office to do her work. She'll need Wifi access too."

"Mr. Jenkins eliminated Wifi, sir. Costs and employees aren't as productive having Wifi for their phones, he said."

Jason's eyebrow rose. "I assume you reminded him that we're in an odd location that does not get cellular service. And that we found productivity to increase when employees had readily available communication methods in case their children fall ill at school or daycare?"

"Yes, sir." Ms. Williamson pursed her pink lips.

Jason's mouth pressed into a firm line. "Mr. Jenkins is not the director at this moment in time. Get IT on it."

Ms. Williamson smiled. "Yes, sir. And Mrs. Swanson's little boy is in the hospital with pneumonia. Has been for a week already. He's quite ill and Mr. Jenkins refused her take off to be with him."

His nostril flared as he heaved a deep-winded sigh. "Is there anything else that I should be aware of immediately?"

"No, sir. Mrs. Swanson's desk is in the back now."

"And...why?" The irritation dripped from his voice.

The woman bit her lip, clearly trying to keep her tongue. "She was demoted from VP of business development, sir."

He spun on his heel and charged down the hall like a bull.

She glanced at Ms. Williamson.

"It's good to have him back." She smiled. "May I get you coffee or anything, Mrs. Port?"

"Emma. No, thank you."

A woman came running down the hall with a purse and tears on her face.

"He'll be okay, Anna." Ms. Williamson shoved some tissues at the lady on the way past.

"Thanks, Mary." Then she disappeared into the elevator.

"That's Mrs. Swanson," Ms. Williamson whispered.

Jason returned, his face slightly red. "Mark Mrs. Swanson down as emergency family leave for at least two weeks. Write up a letter of recommendation for her that I can sign today before I go. I want my CEO title on there to carry some weight. If her absence is disputed, make sure you have her resignation sitting on your desk and ready to pull out. Send the recommendation letter to her personal email address so she has it ready."

Her heart melted. He was lining everything up to help Mrs. Swanson on the chance Jenkins fired the woman - and making sure a resignation would come before the firing.

Then he grabbed her hand and led the way to the conference room, his temper clearly still boiling.

Several employees popped out of their offices and stopped with handshakes and smiles.

"Good to see you, sir."

"Congratulations on the wedding. Kick some ass today, sir."

"Dr. Port! We have a three o'clock meeting tomorrow that I'd like to get your insight on."

They all spoke as if Jason would walk through the door again tomorrow. Strain lined their faces like it hadn't the last time she'd seen them. The smiles, however, seemed heartfelt and genuine. These looked like people who had lost hope...until now. The crowd grew and grew and patted Jason on the back and shook his hand. He kept an arm around her and tucked her by his side through it all. The sweet man didn't brush off a single employee and asked each one a question about their personal lives, remembering details as if he hadn't been gone for five weeks. Jason looked so at home, so happy.

"What the hell is all the commotion?!" A man's voice roared over the noise.

The crowd silenced and parted. A man not much older than Jason, with brown hair and a mustache and suit, stood in the doorway of the CEO office. The anger left his face and he paled a bit when his eye landed on Jason. The nameplate next to the door had been replaced. Mr. Patrick Rufen. CEO.

Jason let go of her and walked toward the man. "I heard that the dismissal wasn't legal, based on our bylaws, and another poll would be held today."

Rufen's mustache twitched.

Ms. Williamson stepped forward beside Jason. "Remember I asked yesterday if you had contacted Dr. Port to advise him of today's meeting? You said you'd emailed him."

"Hm." Jason folded his hands behind his back. "The mishap of the technical era, I'm sure. Ms. Williamson was kind enough to call last night and ensure I received the message, given it would occur in less than twenty-four hours."

Rufen shot Mary a dark look.

"As luck would have it, my flight arrived two hours early." Jason remained composed and calm while Rufen's face reddened with each passing moment.

A few of the employees grinned.

"I need a few minutes in my office to prepare." Jason's tone demanded his office back, if his words didn't.

Her eyes widened. Oh dear. Kicking the man out in front of everyone was bold and perhaps not a wise move.

"You are not the director - " Rufen seethed.

"But I am. Actually, every change made in the past three weeks does not stand because I was absent from the decision making to cast my vote. You have no business being in my office. You have five minutes to kindly clear the desk."

"Why you little - "

"I would choose my words carefully when speaking to my boss. Four minutes."

Rufen spun on his heel. Ater a lot of rustling, he came out, purposefully bumping Jason's shoulder hard enough to make Jason take a step back.

That had been the wrong move. Jason likely would've let the man go, if it hadn't been for that last rude collision. He visibly drew a deep breath to remain calm. And reached for the nameplate.

"You forgot this." Jason slipped the plate off the wall and tossed it to Rufen. "And have your staff spread out Mrs. Swanson's work - she's on family leave for two weeks attending to her ill son."

Oh dear.

Rufen caught the sign and for a moment, looked ready to throw a punch.

Something else was going on. Jason wouldn't be this derogatory toward anyone, even out of revenge.

"Emma, sweetheart." He held his hand out, but he glowered at Rufen, as if daring him to do something that she couldn't quite put a finger on.

She slipped over to him and he followed her into the office.

He shut the door and walked over to the desk, swiping an arm across to dump all of Rufen's papers in a heap on the floor. She blinked. He opened the binder. Inside nested a copy of Rufen's paperwork getting the organization moving in the for-profit direction. "I was trying to gather evidence to get him fired before I left. Two women he oversees came to me with sexual harassment complaints, each individually and with separate occassions the day before the honeymoon. And I believe them. The complaints were being investigated while we were on the honeymoon. Then the shit became CEO and somehow made the paperwork disappear. The women, who were phenominal at their jobs, quit when he took my job. Come hell or high water, I'm getting him out today one way or the other. How are you with work? Can you come into the meeting?"

She blinked. "Um, I got a lot done on the plane. Olin said I can take my lunch early if needed. Let me just email the team quick from my work phone."

"Thank you, Emma."

How strange that three weeks ago he didn't even want her in the same state for this, and now he wanted her in the room. Things had changed so much in such a short time span - all because of his walls finally crumbling.

Many of the board members were already there, fifteen minutes early. Including Rufen, who had the audacity to sit at the head of the table in Jason's usual seat. Many of the members greeted Jason with smiles, congratulations on the wedding, and good luck wishes; a couple investors who had started this whole fiasco three weeks ago ignored him.

"Jason." An investor at the other end of the table waved him over and stood. "Please take my seat. You should be at the head, sir." A head seat and 'sir' from an investor had been spoken loud enough to make a point. Rufen sat at the other end of the table and seethed under the collar.

"Thank you." Jason nodded to the man. The investor patted him on the shoulder and took a different seat. Jason pulled up a chair on his left for her being the other investor ignored him and made no effort to make room.

Ms. Williamson walked in two minutes before the meeting, the last to arrive. The only seat left was her usual spot to the right of Rufen. Interestingly enough, none of the men stood when any of the ladies entered this time. Except Jason. Mary looked at the empty seat and then headed in the opposite direction toward Jason.

Jason smiled and got up to pull over another chair from along the wall. He squeezed Mary in on his right.

Rufen started the meeting just as Jason opened his mouth. "Thank you for coming, everyone. I apologize for wasting your time but we have to revote on dismissing Dr. Port. All in favor?"

She blinked. Surely this couldn't be it without hearing Jason's side. Jason looked surprised. The others at the table looked hesitant to stand up to Rufen. The hell with this. She sat at the edge of the chair. "I must say, ladies and gentlemen, I'm shocked that this is the low standard of the board."

Everyone blinked at her, including Jason.

Her face grew warm and uncertainty inched in. But this was for Jason. "Dr. Port is dismissed on public gossip for a physical condition. To my lay understanding, that's discrimination based on physical attributes, which is illegal. He has proven more than capable in doing the job, and it looks to me like moral and work ethic around here has slid in the three weeks Mr. Rufen has been named CEO. I'm also surprised that no one has objections to becoming for-profit under Mr. Rufen."

A murmur started around the room. Then one of the executives from the other end of the table spoke up. "Mrs. Port, I believe you were misinformed. There is no such move to become for-profit."

Jason pulled out the piece of paper and passed it down. "Documents have been and are being signed."

Rufen stammered. "This is a false draft to discredit me - "

"I can get the original out of my desk if anyone is interested." Mary stood.

An uproar ensued, but Jason got everyone under control again. "I talked with our lawyers last night and nothing is final."

Jason stated his case, eloquent, passionate, and calm. And with amazing humility and courage as he'd been forced into a position to discuss the scars. The very brief story he told of the fire, though, detailed an oven malfunction as a teenager. The fire took his parents with it, thereby so easily explaining him having no kin. It must be the story the government had created to keep his identity a secret.

"Are we going to vote?" Rufen cut in after fifteen minutes when Jason had started stating his vision for the future of the hospital.

"All in favor?" one of the offending investors spoke up.

The yays went around the table, equating to just under half. The nays went through, not quite half either. Two executives did not vote.

Hope plummeted. Even with those two votes, it wouldn't be three-quarters majority.

"Mr. Wiesel and Dr. Nickels, do you need more time?" Jason asked, his head still high even in the face of defeat.

The older of the two men stood. "In my three years with this organization, the morals of the people here have been nothing but impeccable. Three weeks ago, not only did the media shame Dr. Port, but we stabbed him in the back. Yet he returns when this Foundation is crumbling and morale has shriveled, ready to save it if we'll have him. We should be ashamed of ourselves and don't deserve him to return. But those children down there who rely on this being a nonprofit, do deserve him. These children come to us with injuries not unlike his, and yet we are hypocrites in turning him away but patting ourselves on the back for helping them." Then he turned to Jason and held eye contact. "Jason, I apologize for what we did. I vote for Dr. Port."

"Thank you, Sean. That means a lot." To anyone else, he remained cool and composed. But a mistiness clouded his eye for a moment.

The second man nodded. "I stand by my original vote. It's despicable that this is even an issue. I've seen what this place is without him. To those of you who will withdraw your funding if he stays, I withdraw if he leaves."

Rufen sat back with a smug look at Jason's champion. "We can find other means of funding." Then his gaze turned to Jason...and the man smiled in his victory.

The tears burned and the desire to throw her arms around him and shield from the humiliation throbbed. The beautiful man sat with his head held high, although his throat convulsed in a hard swallow. Not once but twice he'd lost this empire of hope he'd built for children through his sweat and tears. And he fell from the throne with such grace. "Thank you, everyone, for your time." He moved to stand to leave.

Rufen visibly gloated. "Apologies for wasting everyone's time, ladies and gentlemen - "

A woman stood. "I recast my vote in favor of Jason."

She stared. Jason froze.

Rufen snorted. "The voting is done - "

"No, it's not," Mary jumped in with a smile. "We have not moved to adjourn."

If Rufen had been close enough, he likely would've leapt across the table at Mary.

Another investor changed his vote. She held a hand to her mouth as the tears welled. Oh god. One more vote. He needed one more.

Mary frantically dialed on a cell phone.

Rufen glared at everyone around the table.

"Come on," Mary whispered and waited for the call to be answered. "Anna's still VP. She gets to cast a vote. She has to."

Jason gave a single shake of his head. "She's on emergency leave. That excuses her and excuses the board in voting without her."

Oh god. His own kindness had come back and shot him in the back. The one vote he needed, that would've been guaranteed, wouldn't count.

Mary lowered the phone, the hopelessness reflected in her eyes.

One of the executive men near Rufen raised his hand. All eyes turned to him. "Yes."

Silence.

"I recast my vote." The man's eyes turned to Rufen. "I'm sick of working for a snake," he spat.

Everyone sat in stunned silence. And then eyes shifted to Mary.

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes and counted on her notepad. "Three nays. Eleven yays. Dr. Port remains the CEO."

Claps of excitement and cheers filled the room. She took his hand under the table, and he held fast as he pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. Almost everyone came over and clapped him on the back with congratulations.

"It was Ms. Williamson who actually found the bylaw," Jason said with a smile.

Everyone pushed closer and patted Mary's shoulder, inadvertently squeezing her out into the background.

She smiled, so happy for him. Someone must've texted the employees because they trickled into the office within seconds too. Jason beamed. He positively beamed. She slipped out to go work in his office and give him time to celebrate with his staff.

When she sat down at his desk and pulled out her laptop, Rufen walked in. An angry glint formed in his eye. A creepy shiver ran down her spine, and she forced her voice to remain steady. "Jason is coming in a moment." Please God, let the lie deter him.

"I need my papers." He looked down at the mess on the floor and closed the door. And locked it.

The blood drained from her face. Oh god. The noise from the conference room would drown out any cries for help. Oh god, no. The panic surged.

Rufen darted forward.

She stumbled back into the corner out of instinct to get some space. "Back off and open the door."

But he just stood less than a meter away and smiled, as if relishing the fear. In the power.

A loud crunch. The doorjam splintered and the door banged against the wall. Jason lowered his foot. "You fucking moron," he hissed, his eye dilated black with rage. He leaped over the desk and grabbed the back of Rufen's collar before the man could react. "Think you'll touch my wife," he snarled. He dragged the man out, and Rufen sprawled on the hall floor.

"Get out! You're fired!" Jason's roar tore through the entire office as the fury unleashed. All sounds in the office silenced.

Rufen got to his feet and brushed himself off, as calm as could be when staff peeked out of their offices. "A temper? Jesus, I was just getting my papers from your office."

"You locked the door and cornered my wife! I have two other women who filed sexual harrassment complaints against you right before I was kicked out! Get out!" The veins throbbed in Jason's neck with rage. He trembled, likely the employees as an audience the only thing keeping him from punching the man.

Everyone stared at Rufen in shock. And then at Jason, whose chest heaved. The tension between the men skyrocketed with each second.

She set a hand on Jason's back. "I'm alright," she said for his ears alone. "He's not stupid enough to actually have done anything. It was a scare tactic." She wrapped her arms around herself, the adrenaline rush gone. Shivers started as an aftereffect of the fear.

But his coiled muscles didn't relax. "Get him out," he growled through clenched teeth. He looked at the security guard that Mary must've called up.

As soon as Rufen had been removed, everyone stared at Jason. One of the women looked at her. "Are you okay, Emma?"

She nodded. The pounding of her heart didn't slow, either from fright for herself yet or the fear of Jason getting arrested for beating up an employee.

"He was a dog. The jerk tried to look under my dress last week," another woman spat.

"He grabbed me when I picked up my pen," another woman sneered.

"Hell, the asshole grabbed me," one of the men snorted. "Didn't he look surprised when a man stepped out of the storage closet."

The men laughed. "Glad you're dating again so soon after your divorce," another man teased.

"That's enough." Jason's voice sliced through the banter. "There is no tolerance for any level of sexual harrassment, and that includes men razzing each other." He looked at Mary standing at the other end of the hall. "Send out an all staff meeting to be held in fifteen minutes." His tone held no patience. Then he shut the door.

He turned and crushed her in his arms. "Are you sure you're alright? I turned around and you were gone. And then I noticed he was gone too."

"I'm fine." But the shaking increased and a cold sweat broke out.

"No, you're not. You're in mental shock." He shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders and then carried her to the chair. He knelt at her feet and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her brow. "It's alright, sweetheart." Then he hit the intercom. "Ms. Williamson, bring a glass of ice water. Quick."

Almost instantly, Mary burst in with the water. The young woman rushed over and pressed it into her hands. "It's alright. He's gone. I told security to keep an eye out for him for a few weeks."

Jason helped hold the glass steady as she drank, the cold a blessed shock that eased some of the tremors.

"I'm okay." She set down the glass on the desk. The embarrassment burned hot not over only falling apart for nothing but Mary witnessing it too.

"It's okay that you got scared." Mary set a hand over hers in comfort. "Dr. Port won't let anyone hurt you."

"That's right, Em. I'd break his face and spend ten years in jail if it kept you safe." He squeezed her other hand. "But you're strong, Emma. You don't need me or anyone else to protect you. Your fight would've come out, sweetheart. But I'm happy to be the knight who comes riding in to the rescue."

That won a soft smile.

"There's my girl." He stroked her cheek, with all the love shining out of his eye.

A glance of embarrassment toward Mary at the sentiment displayed before someone else, and she caught a starry-eyed look as Mary gazed at Jason. She blinked and Mary's look was gone.

"You could've unlocked the door, Dr. Port." Mary looked at not only the damaged doorframe but dented door.

He snorted. "I didn't exactly pause to think to pull out a key." Then he felt her clammy hands.

"Sir, the meeting is starting. I can sit here with her..."

"Are you feeling well enough to come, sweetheart?" When she nodded, he helped her up. "Thank you, Ms. Williamson. We'll be there in a moment." Then he turned to her. "Bring your computer in and work where I can see you. Just to appease my nerves." More like to appease her nerves, but it was a wecomed invitation.

She sat in a chair at the back of the room, leaning her elbows on the laptop and not getting far on her own work as he addressed the staff. He explained the outburst situation in the hall. He reminded everyone of the sexual harrassment rules. He listened to complaints of changes implemented in the past three weeks and addressed what could immediately be rectified and what would take time. He spoke with authority, passion, and confidence. Nothing fazed him. No matter seemed too trivial for his attention. She sighed and nibbled her bottom lip. Hot damn, he was sexy.

"Me too, honey. I envy Mary getting to work with him all day," a woman sitting next to her leaned over and whispered, her eyes riveted on Jason. "I think Mary has a bit of a crush on him. I mean, who wouldn't? He's so sweet too. You don't find men like him nowadays."

She blinked at the woman and held out a hand. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met."

"Francis. I work downstairs as the emergency department manager. You must be new." The pretty woman, perhaps a few years older than herself, shook her hand.

"Sort of. I'm Emma Port." She smiled.

"Port? As in wedding bells? Ohhhh." Her face paled and eyes bugged. "Um, I'm so sorry. That was inappropriate. I just meant he's a decent guy - " The poor thing stumbled over herself.

She smiled. "I envy Mary too." Then she looked across the room at Mary sitting in the front taking notes. Mary did seem to be eagerly at his beck and call.

Jason looked across the room and smiled at her as he spoke. Butterflies awoke in her belly and she returned the smile, elated to see him so happy. Mary wouldn't turn his head, but that didn't mean she had to like him having such an attentive secretary either.


	30. Chapter 30

She closed the laptop at seven o'clock back at home, still unnerved and on edge from the incident this afternoon. Jason. His presence would be reassuring and safe and comforting. Turning off the desk light, she got up and wandered to his office. "Done with work for the day?"

He typed on his laptop. The man had worked on the flight home too. "I could work three weeks straight before getting caught up. Are you done?"

"Yeah." Dropping into the chair in front of his desk, she kept her tone nonchalant. "It was a pretty big day."

A smile split his lips, although his eye remained on the screen. "Thank you for coming, Emma. I think I would've gotten the boot if you hadn't spoken up."

"None of it would've happened if Mary hadn't noticed the bylaw issue." Folding her hands over her stomach, she looked at him.

"Yes. Well, Ms. Williamson is paid to be meticulous." His lips pursed and his eye scanned across the screen, as if reading an email. Then he typed again.

"She seems to be your right hand there."

"Hm? Oh, yes. It pays to have a good secretary." His attention wandered back to the email.

With a mental sigh, she poked again. "She seems quite eager to please you."

He simply grunted, obviously not paying attention.

"I'm getting a nose piercing and shaving my head. Then I'm running away with Pete."

"Alright, sweetheart."

She heaved a sigh in disgust.

"Make sure you take a hat so you don't get cold." The man still stared at the screen.

Her mouth fell open in offense.

A laugh burst out of him when he glanced over the top of the computer. "I'm listening, Em. I just have to finish up this email. You have no need to be jealous of Ms. Williamson."

"I'm not jealous." She folded her arms over her chest. "Francis says Mary's half in love with you."

"Who?" He glanced at her. "Oh, the ED manager? Em, you shouldn't listen to gossip. There's nothing going on between Ms. Williamson and I. She's barely out of college, for heaven's sake."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And what, I'm a hag?"

That got his attention. He looked up with a scowl. "I neither said nor implied that. Nor thought it," he added when she opened her mouth. "Emma, what's this about?" He closed the computer and walked around the desk to sit in the chair to the right.

Biting her lip, she stared down at her lap. Embarrassment and jealousy battled for the front seat. "I heard talk that the women like you. You're married - no one is supposed to notice if you're hot."

"Oh ho, princess." He failed at covering up his chuckle. "Your pretty little face is the only one I care about noticing if I'm hot." Then he leaned closer. "It'd stroke my ego well to hear it."

She threw him a look. "Your ego has been stroked well enough today."

He grinned and leaned in, as if to kiss her neck.

Gaston leaned closer. Her heart stopped. Blinking hard, Jason returned and brushed a kiss over the side of her neck. "Let's go upstairs, wife," he purred deep in his chest.

"Why?" That barked out too fast. Deep breaths. The nerves calmed.

He pulled her up and didn't let go. "I haven't fed you in bed yet."

That strong, familiar hand offered strength. She held tight and walked upstairs. Perhaps a warm bath would soothe the anxiety. "I could take a bath while you eat?"

A warm smile softened his face. "Of course."

The man led the way to her room, shut the door, and then wrapped his arms around. He eased the zipper down the back of her dress as he nibbled her ear. "Let me help you into the bath, sweetheart."

His husky whisper should've elicited shivers of delight. Instead, she laid her hands against his chest and closed her eyes to shut out the rising distress, to try to ignore the nervous thundering in her chest. The dress slid down to her arms and stopped. Gaston's hot breath grazed her neck.

Her eyes flew open. Jason stood across the room near the door with a wide-eyed, shocked expression. She stood near the bed, clutching the dress to keep it from slipping down. Oh god. She must've spooked. Shame washed over his face. "No, Jason - " She took a step closer. When he took a step back, a knife plunged into her heart.

"No." He held up his hands, and the lamp caught the pain in his eye. "Each night, for three nights, I've watched you become more and more terrified. On some level that I don't think you even understand, I terrify you."

Her face crumpled and she shook her head. "No." Taking a step forward, an invisible wall stopped her feet. A wall that he hadn't erected any more than her.

He stepped back near the door. "Emma, you're too scared to even come to me right now." His voice cracked with unshed tears and he reached for the doorknob.

"Jason." The word came out as a whimper. A beg. Wrapping her arms around herself, she grabbed the footboard for strength as she sank to the floor. Tears fell. Courage fled. Fear gripped. Monsters cackled, coming closer. "Don't leave." Oh god, if he left, there would be no protection from the demons marching forward for invasion.

"I'm going to get Ms. Van Hoodie to come sit with you." He sniffled. "She'll be right here." And then he was gone.

Trudy burst in seconds later and rushed over, dropping to her knees and offering a fierce hug. "Shhh, it's alright."

* * *

She laid in her bed staring at the darkness. The memories from years ago wouldn't stop. They played over and over like a movie. The thought of the monsters waiting for her to fall asleep didn't stir fear. The thought of Jason's heartbroken face didn't trigger guilt or sadness. There was just...nothing. Another memory tried to surface but remained just out of reach.

Trudy's soft snores from the other side of the bed mingled with Prince's and filled the silence.

Slipping out of bed, she grabbed the robe and tiptoed out. The clock in the hall tick tocked. Quarter to two in the morning. She padded down the hall. Odd - the darkness hadn't not been something to fear in years. Her heart didn't race. Nerves didn't clench her stomach. Soft padding across the carpet whispered from behind. She turned.

Jason appeared out of the darkness, moonlight flooding into the hall from the massive windows. He shrugged on his robe but kept more than an arm's reach away. "Emma, what are you doing up?" Sleep didn't tint his voice, as if he'd been up yet too.

She shrugged and searched his eye. "I can't sleep."

Concern wrinkled his brow. "Were you going to the kitchen? I'll get you some milk or something."

Her gaze fell to his chest and just stared, the void inside still there even in his presence. "I don't know where I was going." Silence. The words came out in a numb whisper. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" He made no move to touch, as if he already knew it too.

"I can't sleep and keep seeing him. I'm anxious lately. But tonight...I feel so numb. I can't stand having Trudy in my room, but I don't know why. I just want to be alone. But I think if I'm alone, it's going to be like before..." The words tailed off as the memories swam up. The numbness. The blind passing of time with no notice. The depression.

"What was before like?"

His gentle tone slipped through the memories. But the numb staring at his chest wouldn't cease. "It was like...nothing. The days and nights melted together. Then the night terrors started. And the fear and terror and pain. But they happened even when I was awake." She looked up at him. These memories should be triggering tears or fear or distress. No emotion came. Then her brow furrowed a bit as the realization sank in, but the expected shame didn't follow. "Jason...I'm going insane."

"You're not going crazy, sweetheart." His voice grew thick, and he stepped forward. In slow movements, he wrapped a warm embrace around her. "I was afraid if I was making things worse, so I called the therapist. She thinks it's a reaction to the incident today, that it's a way for your mind to protect itself because it struck close to old wounds. That combined with the anxiety of seeing my face... She said you might shut down, and it might last for a few hours or a few days. But it'll go away, sweetheart."

She wrapped her arms around him. But still nothing.

* * *

The memory that had been suppressed for four years, so well that it seemed like a hallucination at first, broke loose. Gaston had come to the apartment with a friend, both of them drunk. The horror refused to be locked away again and haunted each moment. The next two days were a numb blur, with little sleeping, eating, or talking. Leaving her room induced as much anxiety as any type of physical contact. The memories wouldn't quit, even in sleep.

Jason brought the phone one afternoon, with the psychologist on the line. But talking about it would make it worse, make it real. So she just stared out the window while he talked to the doctor. His voice seemed to age each time he came in for a visit, and probably his face but she never stopped staring out the window. Him being too near spurred stress. But without him in the room, the numbness took over. It was as bad as four years ago, and yet not.

Trudy entered early in the morning. She paid the woman no attention, already up hours ago and staring out the window.

"Dr. Port has something for you in the arboretum."

She continued staring out over the mountains, the green grass beginning to peek through the snow in the early spring. The man must've spent a fortune on the jewels, dresses, roses, and other trinkets meant to snap this numb, almost severe depression state. His presence offered no comfort. Yet without him, this illness - or 'trauma' that the therapist and Jason insisted it was - would be hopeless. It had to be some kind of insanity. That only compounded the need for isolation.

"You must eat. You're growing weak, and Dr. Port is beside himself with worry."

She stared out the window.

Trudy strapped something to her wrist.

She didn't look and didn't care. It vibrated for a split second. She blinked. It tapped in a rhythm. Tearing her gaze from the window, she looked down. The watch - the one that Jason had made so she could feel his heartbeat during the trial with Gaston. Something stirred in her chest for the first time in days. Sitting up straighter, she touched the watchface. It tapped in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"He said if you need someone close, and if he can't be in the room, he would leave behind his heart." Tears warbled Trudy's voice. "He's worried sick, Emma. Try to eat today." Trudy set a plate of toast in her lap and then left.

She took a bite and stared at the watch that still beat a steady rhythm.

Jason's deep baritone from his room filtered through the crack under the connecting door. "How is she?"

"She reacted to the watch. I haven't seen her react to anything in days, don'tcha know. Dr. Port?" The joy left Trudy's voice. "Is she losing her mind? It breaks my heart to see her like this."

"Mine too." He sighed. "The therapist swears it's a form of PTSD and shock, perhaps schizophrenia or manic depression." His volume fell and heartbreak threaded his words. "I called another psychologist. He thinks I should check her into a clinic..." His voice broke.

"What does your heart say?"

"That between the incident at work and seeing my face, it's shock. That a clinic isn't the right thing for her." Tears broke the words. "She's going to come back. I caused this, and I'm not giving up on her."

"Sir, you shouldn't blame yourself."

A bitter snort answered. "If I'd fired Rufen before the honeymoon and hadn't shown her my face, she wouldn't be going through this. Jesus, I've traumatized my own wife." Then his footsteps faded down the hall.

His self-blame and fear should've instigated some kind of worry or upset...but still nothing.

The Saturday morning hours passed, and she cradled the watch in her hands and against her cheek. The soft undulations of his heartbeat created a crack in the impenetrable fortress of darkness and horror. A tiny sliver of sunlight filtered through that crack.

Trudy brought lunch, not seeming pleased at only a couple bites taken of the toast. She set a plate of fruit and a turkey sandwich on her lap and left.

Taking a couple bites of the sandwich, she held up her wrist when the vibrations became sporadic. It stopped. She dropped the sandwich and tapped the watch. It gave another vibration and then stilled.

Her heart jumped into her throat and a whimper of distress broke the silence. No. No, no, no. Maybe it had broken. Tears welled and she shot to her feet. The plate smashed and food scattered. Ripping the watch off, she shook it. Still nothing. Jason could fix it. He'd know what to do. Jumping over the glass, she ran out of the bedroom in her nightgown and downstairs. Panic surged. The crack was sealing back up. Bursting into his office, she stopped short. He wasn't in there. She darted into the kitchen and Pete and Trudy looked up in surprise. He wasn't there.

"Emma? What's wrong?" Pete shot to his feet.

She raced through the foyer to the cabin room. Tears raced down. Empty. Oh god, he was gone and the sun only peeked through a tiny hole in the crack. It was almost gone.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Trudy caught her arm.

But she shook Trudy off. She had to find him.

"Jason!" Pete's voice boomed through the foyer as she charged back up the stairs.

The arboretum. Maybe he was in the arboretum. The watched slipped from her fingers, but she didn't stop. Oh god, the hole was sealing. Her bare feet slamming against the carpet runner echoed down the long hall. The rose glass doors of the greenhouse loomed so far. She wouldn't get to him in time. Her lungs burned. Blood roared in her ears. Fear and panic swelled.

Jason opened the arboretum door, talking on his cell. "Here she is. I have her." Then he hung up.

She plowed straight into him, sobs battling with the need for air. He didn't move like he wasn't sure what to do. Clutching handfuls of his shirt, she pressed her ear to his chest. And wept tears of relief as the steady beat of his heart pounded against the wall.

When she started to sink to the floor, he held tight and sank down with her. He cradled so gentle and safe. "Shhhh, my love. It's alright."

Clutching his shirt, the sobs ripped out. The crack splintered and grew. A brick fell and another. The sun poured through the hole too small to crawl through but too big to seal itself back up. Jason...Jason was the sun.

"Stay with me, Emma." His voice quivered. "You're safe. I'm right here." A kiss pressed to the top of her head as he held tight.

* * *

He sat at his workbench looking through a magnifying glass as he fixed a loose connection in her wristband.

She stood behind and kept a hand on his back, needing to touch the sun to keep away the darkness.

When he picked up the soldering tool, he shifted his head left and right ever so slightly. He couldn't figure out the depth perception. If he missed the tiny target, he'd badly burn his fingers. The tool moved in and would overshoot.

She grabbed his hand and pulled it back a fraction.

A tiny whisp of smoke curled up as the wire soldered in place. Then he lowered the tool and glanced up. "Thank you." He flashed a quiet smile and then resumed working in silence. A minute later, he turned in his seat and held out the band. "It should work now."

Instead of taking the watch, she held out her wrist and looked at him.

The surprise shined in his eye. He fasted it on her wrist, the vibrations - the connection to him - there again. He remained seated, as if unsure what to do next. That beautiful blue eye searched her face. "Emma, I'm hoping this is a sign that things are getting better and this is just temporary...but I need you to tell me if you want or think you need more help than what I can give you here."

He was asking about sending her away. Swallowing hard, she took a step back and shook her head. She wrapped her arms tight around herself and tears blurred everything. Oh god, not strangers. Not strange men.

"Alright." He held up his hands. "It's alright. You don't have to go anywhere." Then his hands lowered and eye searched her face. "Will you talk to me, Emma?"

Her gaze shifted away. Talking meant admitting it had happened. Talking meant him finding out. Talking meant seeing the horror on his face. Talking meant him learning she was far more damaged than he'd known.

He stood and held out his hand. "Come with me to the arboretum, sweetheart."

She took his hand and followed.

The roses were in magnificent spring bloom. The beautiful colors and singing birds temporarily offered reprieve from the haunting darkness. In the back corner near a window, an easel, glowing white canvass, and new paints beckoned.

He smiled and guided her to the swivel stool. "Here," he held her shoulders and turned toward the window, "is one of the best views of the mountains." Excitement and hope filled his voice. "And here," he swiveled her to face the greenhouse, "is the best view of the roses. I went through the entire arboretum and this is where you can see every rose." Then he knelt at her feet and took her hands. "You said you missed painting. If you won't talk, I hope you paint, Emma. You're locked up inside and I don't know how to free you. I want you to find joy, sweetheart." Then he stood. "I'll leave you with your paints. I hope you at least try, Emma."

She stared at the mountains as the sun shifted through the sky. Every fiber ached to tell him what was wrong. But it would be degrading and humiliating and horrifying.

Footsteps entered and a heartbroken sigh filled the air. It must be Jason and his disappointment at seeing a blank canvas. "Do you want me to take you back to your room?"

Turning her head to him, she nodded.

The man looked crushed as he took her back. "Should I stay?"

It would be too hard having him here for this. When she shook her head, his heart visibly shattered and he left. She picked up a pencil and paper and sat down at the desk. And let the lines and shading flow from the pencil.

The sun had faded from the room as the colors painted the sky. She set down the pencil and looked at the drawing. Two men and a woman. It was violent and graphic and dark and horrifying. Gaston's face would be unmistakable. The self-resemblance was enough that Jason would recognize her. The other man, who somewhat resembled Rufen, would forever remain a mystery - he attributed to the intense fear at night. Because he was still out there somewhere. Then she titled it 'Remember' in the upper corner. Folding it in half, she set it on his bed and returned to her room.

Trudy brought in dinner.

She sat at the window and stared out at the moonlight dancing over the mountains when the connecting door burst open.

Jason held up the drawing, his face white with horror even in the dim light. "What is this?" His voice shook as much as his hand. "Emma, what is this?" he demanded, the hysteria rising in his voice.

With tears welling, she just looked at him. He knew but was too scared to admit it.

He shot across the distance and slammed onto his knees. The drawing floated to the floor and he caught her face in his hands. A tear rolled down his cheek. "I will always love you no matter what happens. Do you understand me?"

She nodded as the tears fell over his hands.

"Have you remembered another man being there? He looks like Rufen and that triggered the memory?"

Her face crumpled. "He was getting ready for his turn but ran when Gaston pulled out the knife." Her voice came out rusty from disuse.

He crushed her in his arms, cupping the back of her head and burying his face in her hair. "I love you. This doesn't change what I think or feel about you. We're going to call the psychologist and figure out how we get through this. I'll be with you for every session, if you want. You aren't alone, Emma."

She clung to him and wept.

* * *

The veins on the leaf still didn't look right. She swapped out paintbrushes.

"Hard at work again?"

Looking over the canvas, she smiled. Jason walked through the arboretum. "Yes, and you can't look."

"You've been working on it for a week. When do I get to see?" He stopped on the other side with a smile and folded his hands behind his back.

"Soon enough. What time is it?"

"Time to bring my wife down for breakfast." He offered his arm. When she covered everything up and then took his arm, he seemed to study her for a moment. "Did you sleep well last night? I was surprised to find your bed empty when I woke up."

She nodded. "I didn't have nightmares last night."

He raised her hand to his lips. "Good." The man didn't comment on the therapy session a couple nights ago that had left him so upset.

"You don't have to sit in on the sessions."

A wrinkle marred his brow as he frowned. "If you want me there, I'll be there. I want to help you through this." A shadow tinted under his eye - he must not have slept much. Two days ago had been a particularly graphic session of the recounting of the assault. And the first time he'd heard it all from her directly.

She nibbled her lip for a moment as he led her down the stairs. "I heard you retching in the bathroom afterwards."

His gaze remained locked forward. "It's hard hearing of the violence done to someone you love, Emma. It has no reflection on you or us. It's also hard sleeping in separate quarters. I worry if you're frightened or sad or upset." The dear man seemed to be taking this all so hard. "I know the psychologist said that sudden memory recall of suppressed traumatic events is common and that you'll feel like it all just happened all over again. Perhaps there's something to it that she said part of you subconsciously knew there was more to the assault and that's what kept the flashbacks alive. I know that moving slow is vital to helping you heal fully this time, but..." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took her hands in his. That loving blue gaze searched her heart. "I hope she's right. My instinct is to be by your side every moment to fend off the monsters, to keep you in my arms and make sure you never feel fear again."

The doctor had said that sometimes spouses suffered by feeling so helpless. But there was more to it - he seemed to blame himself. "What's really bothering you?"

He looked away.

"Jason."

"You have enough to deal with." He took her hand and headed for the kitchen.

She dug in her heels and halted him, but he didn't turn. "Why do you blame yourself for something that happened before we met?"

His shoulders slowly slouched and the guilt welled up from him. But he didn't say a word for several seconds. "If I had fired Rufen weeks ago, maybe you never would've remembered. If I had been there to stop him before he went in my office..." His voice didn't hold it's usual strength. "For three days you withered before my eyes, and I had no idea what to do or what was wrong." He turned. Tears flooded his eye. "I'm your husband. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to know what's wrong and how to help you."

"How? How could you have known Rufen was going to come in? How could you have known what happened four years ago when we thought we knew everything? You are not God, and I don't expect you to be." But the heartbroken look didn't leave his face.

* * *

"Jason, these feelings are normal, but we should discuss them privately without Emma," the therapist said over the videoconference that evening.

She frowned and looked at him sitting in a chair beside her in his office. "Why? He can talk about - "

"Emma," the therapist interrupted, "sometimes spouses have emotions that worsen the survivor's. It's best for everyone."

"No, it's not." She sat up higher and held out a hand, palm up. "If he's upset, he should be able to talk to me - "

"Sweetheart." He caught her hand, his tone calm. "It's alright."

She stared at him. There was nothing 'alright' about this. He needed someone to talk to as much as she did. As his wife, she should be the one he could come to. Pressing her lips together, she glared at the floor as the outrage bubbled up.

"I know you're upset, Emma. I need you to trust me that this is for the best. Once you're farther along and healed a bit more, then we can talk about - "

But she shot up and stormed out.

"Emma!" His footsteps followed a moment later as she reached the first step upstairs. "Em, wait."

Spinning around on the step, the frustration burst out and she thrust a finger toward his office. "She has no right to say that you can't talk to me! I'm your wife and...what?"

The man stood toe-to-step at eye level and something glimmered in his eye. He shook his head and tried to hold back a smile. "You can be a force to be reckoned with sometimes."

"Dammit!" She stomped a foot. "I'm sick of these rules!" She stabbed a finger at her chest. "I get scared at night without you. I want to sleep in the same bed. I don't care what she says, she isn't me! I'm sick of being treated like a China doll." Frustrated tears burned. "Maybe I need some affection so I remember that you're safe. Maybe other women spook afterwards but they aren't me." Grabbing the lapels of his suit, she jerked him forward and crushed his lips.

His lips parted and arms wrapped around, as if needing this drink as much as her. The deep, throaty sigh from his chest spurred the desire for his presence, his love, his gentleness, his protection. He wanted her to sleep beside him as much as she needed him.

"Close your eyes, Emma," he whispered.

She broke the kiss and looked at him. "What?"

"Close your eyes." He took her hand. "Trust me."

So she closed her eyes.

His hand caressed her cheek with heartbreaking tenderness. "I want you to feel safe and loved when I'm near. I want you to feel your heart flutter and the world stop when I touch you. It might not be today or tomorrow, but someday." He brushed a kiss against her forehead. "Someday things will be like they used to. One day I'll figure out how to slay the last demon. One day the flashbacks will be gone. One day you'll smile without the hurt. It will always be a part of you, but you'll find a way for it not to define you. I know that someday the tears will be tears of happiness. I'll be there every step of the way holding your hand, my Emma."

Her eyes fluttered open and tears shimmered at the beauty of his words. Words that were promises. Touching his cheek, she grazed a thumb over his lips. "Start with tonight. I don't want to sleep apart anymore. I want to lay beside you. Even if the monsters come, I know you'll hold me until morning light."

She laid in his bed that night and stroked a hand up and down his arms around her.

"Last weekend you were afraid of anyone touching you. What changed?"

"Maybe the therapist had something to keeping a distance, or maybe I just needed some time." She rolled over in his arms. "I missed you."

"Dear heaven, I missed you too." He stroked her back. "Go to sleep, sweetheart."

Peaceful sleep came and lasted all night.


	31. Chapter 31

"Good evening, Emma." He stood in the doorway of the dining room.

Her toes curled at the deep roll of his baritone. She set her cell phone down and smiled from the table. The man had taken his new duty the past two weeks seriously - the therapist had said no sexual contact for awhile, and if reintroduced right, it could be practically the end of the flashbacks and night terrors. Although the night terrors had yet to fade.

He walked in, the candlelight catching the soft glint in his eye and his smile. Goodness, the butterflies returned with greater frequency each day at his presence. The man brushed a kiss over her cheek and then took his seat in the darkness. "My apologies for being late - a call with a potential Foundation investor ran long. How was your day, sweetheart?"

"That's wonderful. Will he fully financially replace the investor who left when you were reinstated?"

"She, actually. Yes, she'll be covering what was lost and then a bit more. How was your day?"

"Work was busy..."

Trudy brought in dinner.

She folded her hands in her lap. "Thank you, Trudy." Then she looked in his direction in the darkness. And tried to hide the stress. "Olin gave me the lead for a case."

Trudy flashed a grin, clearly struggling to not comment like a proud mother. The woman would probably chatter about her intelligence later tonight helping her get ready for bed. The dear had taken to setting up her nightly bath the past couple weeks, insisting it would help chase away the nightmares to be pampered. Containing herself well, Trudy slipped out.

"That's wonderful, Emma." The smile came through his tone. "Are you allowed to divulge what kind of case?"

He wouldn't like it - probably even less than she did. She picked up her glass and mumbled, "Hunting down a criminal in South America."

"Criminal as in a terrorist case, or is this a new kind of criminal Olin is exploiting you for?" His tone couldn't have dripped sarcasm much more.

Setting down the glass, she pursed her lips. "He couldn't possibly be using me for my capabilities."

"I did not say that. There's nothing wrong with me not jumping for joy that my wife is involved with catching terrorists and criminals, thereby putting herself on a target list if these lunatics ever find out who caught them."

"It's not like I'm going into a war zone and taking down terrorists and criminals with the SEALS." She cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

A deep sigh wisped from the darkness. "I don't deny that what you do is honorable in helping keep our country safe - "

She raised her chin. "But if I was a man, you'd commend rather than scold me."

"Emma, you're my wife. Naturally I want to keep you safe. Being male or female has nothing to do with how well you can do the job. What are these criminals being hunted for?"

Sitting back in the chair, her eyes narrowed. Every muscle tensed. He wouldn't like her involvement in catching human sex traffic criminals. "I'm not at liberty to divulge it." Of course he of all people wouldn't tell a soul, even if it actually was that confidential.

Silence. But the man obviously was not pleased.

"I sit behind a computer in the Colorado mountains. I hack behind FBI invisibility. No one is going to figure out what I do."

His chair creaked, as if he sat back. "FBI and CIA lists have been stolen in the past. It could be just a matter of time, Emma. When you took this job, he wasn't going to put you on dangerous cases. Every time I turn around, you're on something more and more dangerous. I don't believe that you can't tell me what kind of case; you don't want to."

"And you're going to forbid me to keep working? This is the twenty-first century where women are no longer property," she spat. Her hackles rose. Gaston had tried to manipulate her career. "You of all people have no right to say the danger in my career is too high."

"I can't forbid you to do anything, and I wouldn't." His voice softened. "Emma, I was in the top SEALS teams and our names were supposed to be under the best lock and key...look at what happened when they found out my name. I don't want that for you."

Her hackles lowered. He'd paid a dear price and still paid every day. This was Jason - he wasn't trying to control, he was trying to protect.

"I would die for you, Emma, but there are some things I can't protect you from. I'm terrified every time you step out the door that some lunatic you helped catch will have one of his goons kidnap or hurt you. The world is dangerous enough without there being a target on my wife's back. Yes, I am perhaps more protective because of your history. And yes, this is prejudiced and unfair, but my personal belief is women are more vulnerable in dangerous situations than men." His voice fell to a deeper, more solemn tone. "You've seen a dark side of man, but my dear, you have not seen the darkest. I came across women in the war zone after men were finished with them. It would've been better for them if they had been men, Emma. There were a handful of times when the best I could do for these women was put a bullet in their brains." Grief and sorrow filled his voice.

"Yes, odds are you will always remain a ghost, but it only takes one slip from the hundreds of people who help you cover your tracks for you to get caught."

She stared in his direction as the fear of the danger he painted and the shock that he would plant this fear stirred to life.

"I do not say this to frighten you." He moved into a chair within the candlelight to the right. "I say this because I don't know that Olin has fully explained the risks you take." His hand rested over hers on the table. "Some of these cases you've had are powerful criminals with lines to the outside even from prison. Be careful. When you think you're being too careful, be careful one step further. You excel at what you do, and I worry that Olin gets seduced by your capabilities and doesn't always think through the dangers."

She drew a shaky breath. "I work on a team of specialists and another team I consult with to cover my tracks before I do anything."

His hands wrapped around her one hand on the table. Concern dulled his eye. "I don't want you to be afraid and to live in a bubble. I just want you to be sure you're always using your head and listening to your gut. When you're in the midst of coming close on a case, the adrenaline rush and excitement cloud vision. I've had it happen to me on the field, and I was trained how to suppress that. One day Olin will push you on a case that will push your limits and not in a good way. Promise me that you will listen to your instincts and back off. The criminal might slip away, but you'll find him again because you're good."

It drove him crazy with worry not to know the case, but he wasn't and wouldn't press for an answer. He understood what it was like more than she'd realized. And the gut instinct he mentioned of Olin pushing too far had already kicked in on this case. Attributing it to being hyper paranoid because of Gaston, she'd shoved the warning feelings aside. She needed Jason's guidance. "Sex trafficking is the current assignment." The type of men who probably did some of the horrible things he had mentioned.

He closed his eye for a long moment and pressed his lips together. Then he spoke without opening his eye, as if trying to keep his temper. "Let me guess, he selected you to lead the team because your history would give you the drive to catch them." But it was a rhetorical question. A deep sigh released. He let go of her, rested his elbows on the table, and ran his hands over his face. "Did you tell him why you were out three weeks ago? That you're trying to deal with what you remembered happening?" He folded his hands and rested them against his lips, only offering his profile like he needed the space to keep his temper.

Dropping her gaze to the table, her voice came out softer than intended. "You of all people know I'd be pulled off cases until their psychologist states I'm 'fit' for work."

He turned and laid a hand over hers. "There is no shame in needing a break to take care of yourself, Emma. What does your instinct say?"

Lifting her eyes to his, it felt safe to open up. He wouldn't push into a decision he wanted; he would help guide to what felt right in her gut even if he didn't agree with it. "The trail this time isn't paper or computers or money. I shouldn't tell you this, but..." She swallowed hard, the nerves that had been tangled all day finally letting loose.

That blue eye grew more concerned. "You don't have to tell me. I won't be offended, Emma. But if you do say, I understand that I can't tell a soul."

That only made it feel safer to tell him. The words rushed out in relief. "I'm hacking satellites and city security cameras to track them through imaging. I don't know what I'm doing." Tears welled. "He assigned me to lead the case, and if I back out, everyone's going to think I can't keep up with the guys. I'll probably get the easy, crappy cases again and - "

"Whoa, whoa. Emma, it's alright." He slipped out of his chair and knelt at her feet, gathering her against his chest. "Shhh, sweetheart. I'm sorry, did I scare you with what I said?"

She sniffled and shook her head. Then she took the handkerchief he offered.

Sitting back but keeping his hands on her upper arms, he searched her face. "Do you want this case is the first question."

"Yes and no." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "I don't know if I can do the job. I'm not a computer major. Then part of me does want to do it because of Gaston."

His deep sigh stirred strands of her hair. "This case strikes close to wounds, and I'm not sure this is good for you."

She searched that blue eye filled with so much worry. "But I get to do something about it, Jason. I get to help catch these people before more women and children are hurt. Sometimes that in itself is therapy."

He didn't look convinced. "Can you talk to Jack about it? He seems good with computers and maybe can give you some pointers."

She nibbled her lip. "Probably. Olin won't let us be on the same team anymore, so I can't tell him everything but can tell him enough..." More weight lifted from her shoulders.

"Do you want to call him from your work cell?" When she hesitated, he nodded toward the door with his head. "Go. You won't eat a bite if you're worried." Then he stood and helped her up.

She walked in a few minutes later. The sweet man still stood in the candlelight where she'd left him. With a smile, she hurried over and threw her arms around his neck. "You're a genius, Jay. He had some good pointers and ideas of some other things for the case."

He pulled back and searched her eyes, not looking relieved one bit. "Be careful, Emma. Take extra precautions. Bounce to some extra servers around the world or whatever you do to keep the signal from being tracked. If you need a different Internet connection or equipment here, we'll pay for it even if it's out of our own pocket. I don't care what the cost is."

She nodded and offered a smile. "I asked Jack and he gave me another set of servers to bounce the signal more."

He blew out a soul-deep sigh, obviously wanting her out of the whole thing. "Don't eat too much for dinner. We never finished that self-defense lesson." Then he turned on his heel and went to his seat in the dark.

A smile tugged as she sat. "So I can fight off these goons coming for me?"

The deep grunt from the dark said he didn't find it funny.

She picked up her fork. "Jay?"

Again, he grunted.

"I know you aren't happy about my job, but...thank you for being supportive." If the situation was reversed, it would be hard to offer him the same.

"I'm proud of you for getting the job - it's your cases that I don't like. There's a difference. And I don't have to agree to be supportive, sweetheart. Tomorrow I'm teaching you how to shoot."

It would've been funny...if he hadn't sounded so serious. His concern was both endearing and a bit unnerving - perhaps he wasn't being overprotective but she was being naïve. "Yes, Jay."

* * *

"Bring your elbow around while you drop the weight of your foot." He had his arms wrapped around her in the boxing ring in his exercise room after dinner and helped guide her through the motions. "Good. Now, do it for real." He let go and stepped back.

She spun around with wide eyes. "What?! No! What if I hurt you - "

He smiled behind the ski mask. "That's the point. I'm bigger than most men and a SEAL, so it's good practice for you. If you can take me down, you can get practically anyone down. I'd better walk out of here with a black eye or broken bone."

"What?!" Her eyes popped in horror.

A grin spread across his lips. "Turn around so I can attack you from behind."

"But - "

Lifting a hand, he pointed a finger at the ground and swirled it for her to turn. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Heaving a sigh, she turned. "I know you're not. It's you who I'm worried - " A squeak of surprised popped out as arms wrapped around to pin hers and a foot swept her feet out. He stood there in a bear hug with her feet off the ground. She burst into giggles.

"Emma," he snapped.

Biting her lip, she suffocated the laughter. The man meant business. She swung a leg back to hook around his and make him fall. Only, it may as well have been a puppy pressing on his leg for all the good it did. Shoot. "If I fling my head back, I'll break your teeth."

"And cut your scalp, thereby getting my saliva in your blood. Avoid blood contact whenever possible."

She frowned. He held so tight to keep her up that her arms started to tingle. "This is getting uncomfortable."

"Then get out of it."

With an exasperated sigh, she then set her foot against his knee. "I blow out your knee."

"Good. But someone with any experience will be ready for it." He set her down and let go. "A real combat is the only way you'll learn." His body heat melted away. "Don't worry about hurting me. You're small - use it to your - " Before he finished his sentence, she was jerked up in another bear hug.

Kicking both feet off his thigh, the force propelled her forward enough that his grip broke. She tucked and rolled away like he'd taught to keep from breaking limbs. Surging to her feet, some of the fear poked through. He charged forward out of the corner of her eye before she had full bearings. Spinning to get away and buy an extra second to get positioned well, her heart beat faster. His fingers brushed the back of her shirt. Just like Gaston. Whirling and grabbing his outstretched arm, she yanked his momentum forward more and ducked underneath out of the way. He sailed past into the boxing ropes but used the recoil to bounce back and spin.

One sweep of his leg and her feet flew out. Panic surged as he pinned her flailing limbs to the ground. Blood roared out any other sound. The masked face loomed and a brown eye looked back. Gaston. Ice-cold, paralyzing fear shot through every vein.

"Control it, Emma. Use the fear; don't let it freeze you." Jason's voice came from Gaston's face. "Fight me."

Air. Her throat closed up and every muscle shook in terror. Gaston. Gaston was on top again. Oh god.

"Fight, Emma!" he barked.

Something inside snapped. This monster had controlled for too long. He'd stolen too much. He'd made Jason pay for his sins. No more tears. No more cowering. Fear morphed into anger. Anger fueled will. Adrenaline burst.

Drive a knee into his side. His air knocked out. Twist and rip a wrist free. Fly upright, use his grip on other wrist and twist him down. Grab his arm. Climb on his back. Step on his thigh and back to keep him down, bending his arm behind his back.

With one arm and sheer muscle, he rose onto his knees with her on his back, throwing off her balance.

Tumble. Scramble up. A hand clamped hard around her ankle...like last time. Right before he ripped off her clothes. Instinct kicked in. Blind madness. Strikes at random. He blocked each one.

"Hit with purpose!" Gaston snapped.

Her heart thundered. A fake punch distracted him just enough. A kick to the side of the knee took him down. Dropping on top of him, two fingers shot down to crush his trachea.

Hands clamped around her wrists and spread her arms apart, dropping her face inches from his. A surprised blue eye looked back.

Jason. The air froze in her lungs. Gaston was gone. She scrambled off, her chest heaving from the effort but her heart pounding in fear. Dear god, she'd almost killed him.

He pushed himself up. "Emma, it's alright. That's normal to go into a frenzy if you panic."

Fear coursed through - if a weapon had been around, she might've killed him thinking he was Gaston. The shaking intensified, making it hard to even breathe. She darted under the ropes, jumped down, and ran down the hall. Reaching her room, she slammed the door and sank to the floor, gasping to breathe. Tears blurred everything. He could've died.

A knock vibrated the door against her back a few minutes later. "Emma? Sweetheart, let me in."

Grabbing the doorknob and pulling hard to make up for shaking legs, she opened the door a bit. He pushed it open and immediately stepped in, engulfing her in a hug. It was warm and safe and calm huddled in his oversized embrace.

"It's alright and you're safe. That's why we practiced without weapons in case that happened." He whispered the words in his deep, soothing baritone that created comforting vibrations in his chest and against her cheek. His woodsy scent eased the rest of the jittery nerves. "Visualization and having the power to fight what you're most afraid of are some of the best healing methods. I know it's frightening to lose control, but it's normal and will get better." He spoke as if from experience.

She buried her face against his soft, black cotton sweatshirt. "I almost killed you - "

"No, sweetheart." His hand rubbed up and down her back in slow strokes. "You put up a good fight, but I've trained for much worse. I was ready for it. There was no true danger."

A sickening chill ran down her spine and the churning of her stomach created a bitter taste. "You never talk about the war. I don't even know if you got hurt in it."

"It's in the past, Emma."

Her heart stopped and she pulled back enough to look up at him with wide eyes. "Where?"

He sighed. "Where the burns cover my right shoulder now." Her misty eyes seemed to urge him enough that he continued. "A knife during hand-to-hand combat in the Middle East. It was just under the collarbone and missed the lung. It was practically a shoulder wound, that's all." The man dismissed it just like that.

"What happened?"

"A surprise attack."

"Did your team all make it out?"

He nodded.

With such quiet grace he carried so many hardships, many probably about the war that he would likely never share. His down-to-earth, gentle nature made it so easy to forget that she stood in a hero's presence - a hero to comrads, children at the Foundatiom, herself, and others in many ways. He probably had medals for things he had done as a SEAL and possibly for going into the fire, set by the enemy, to find that little girl. Silent awe and admiration washed over like a warm wave.

"We won't use weapons for awhile, until you feel safer and more in control. Come. We'll learn more techniques and practice later."

Some of the panic returned. She pulled back.

"Trust me, Em. Getting back on the horse now is better than letting you get scared that you can't control yourself. The more you practice and know what to do for a surprise, the better prepared you are in real life. The monster will shrink more each time we practice." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

An hour later, she dragged a sleeve over her damp brow and panted. "Jason, I'm done."

"Alright." He turned to offer his left profile, pulled off the ski mask, and wiped his flushed face. "I didn't expect you to be up for more practice fights. You're a better opponent than I expected, Em. And you kept control. I'm impressed."

She smiled, a bit proud of making him break a sweat...while she panted like a dog under the summer sun. The damn man barely panted. "I may be little but I'm strong." Drawing a long drink from a waterbottle, she tried to slow her breathing so as not to look like a complete wimp.

A hearty laugh burst out of him, and he grabbed his waterbottle with the straw. "Yes, you are. And fast." He took a drink. "Come on princess. Let's go shower and then watch a movie in bed."

"In bed?" She laughed and took his outstretched hand.

"We can watch on the laptop, if you don't mind a little screen." He grinned.

After showering, she peeked in his room. His bathroom door remained shut, so she ran downstairs in her robe and slippers to make popcorn, clipping up her wet hair.

His office door sat open. She stopped in the foyer. If he had medals, he wouldn't have them out - he'd probably have them in the safe. Making a beeline for the safe, she punched in the code. It clicked. He had his Living Will inside and some important financial statements, but she'd never looked to see what else. She pulled open the heavy metal door the size of two mailboxes.

Inside rested those documents and a letter with a very worn leather box. She frowned a picked up the envelope. It was addressed from Scotland and dated just a few days ago.

"It came this morning. I'm not sure what to do. Read it."

She turned. He stood there with his hands shoved in the pockets of a blue robe and his face solemn. It was never a good sign when he shoved his hands in pockets. When she opened the letter, her heart slowed.

 _My dearest grandson,_

 _I'm Agatha, your paternal grandmother. You don't know me, as your father left before you were born. It is my greatest regret._

 _Your grandfather passed a few weeks ago, and I have done a great deal of reflection. We made a mistake in driving away your father before your birth. It took years of searching to find you, and paying off some people - some good people who will keep your secret safe. And whether or not you wish to see me, I will keep your secret safe. You're all that I have left of my son, and I regret these past thirty-four years._

 _I hate myself for abandoning him - I've learned of the poverty you grew up in and the hardships you've had. I worry that what you endure now could have been prevented if I'd been there to help your life go down a different path. I know that you don't need me for financial or personal reasons and have no obligation to me for the horrible life I helped lead you through. For what little time is left, I wish to right things as much as they can be._

 _This is your great-grandfather's watch that I'd like for you to have as a family heirloom, if nothing else. It breaks my heart that you grew up without any family, and practically without a father. I will look for a letter, a note, a telegram from you, even though I do not expect you to have any desire to actually send one._

 _I ask for your forgiveness and, if nothing else, to always know that you can come to me for anything without a single string attached. I regret the lost moments of watching my grandson grow up. For what little it means...I love you._

 _Agatha_

She stared at it for a moment and read it again. It was a lot to take in - no wonder why Jason hadn't mentioned it yet. The letter seemed heartfelt and genuine and utterly sad. Folding it up, she gestured to the box and looked at him. "May I?" When he nodded, she opened it. An antique but very well kept gold pocket watch ticked. "How do you feel about it?"

He shrugged. "I don't even know. Angry at first. Angry that she had the gall to hunt me down. My mother claimed she went to his parents again after my father died, but she was turned away." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Tonight I feel guilty because I think I'm her only grandchild and she has to be about ninety - I don't know that I should deny her what could be her last wish." The poor man looked so torn and lost.

"And you seem sad." She tilted her head and set a hand on his arm.

His brow furrowed a bit and a sad eye looked back at her. "I see what you and Nana have, and I wish I would've had that. I love Nana and she makes me feel like I really am one of her grandchildren...but at the same time it's like I'm borrowing her." A sad sigh escaped and he leaned back against the desk.

Setting the letter and box in the safe, she turned and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. "You _are_ one of Nana's grandkids, and I know she feels that way too. Don't feel like you're borrowing her. She very much adores you, Jay - sometimes I think more than her own grandsons." She rested a hand on the side of his warm jaw. Instead of the usual steady pulse, his heart beat a little fast. "You don't owe her anything, Jay. You contact her if _you_ want to."

A line of worry creased his brow, and he opened a desk drawer and handed over a handwritten letter in his elegant scrawl. "I'm not sure if I want to send this. Is it too harsh?"

 _Dear Agatha,_

 _I received your letter and the watch. Thank you. The only item Mother and I were able to bring to America and the only heirloom was her mother's chair that she couldn't bear to part with._

 _Your letter caught me off guard, as I believed as a child that all family ties were severed, much less irrevocably a few years ago after the accident. I don't want pity or money. My mother told me when I was older that she went to you for help after my father died. She said she was turned away again from her family and yours. America promised opportunity, and opportunity is what we found._

 _A couple months ago, I married the most beautiful, wonderful woman I could ever ask for, and we plan to start a family soon. I do not regret a moment of my life because it led me to her._

 _As a child, I learned what it was like to lose absolutely everything but my mother. Four years ago, I learned what it was like to lose everyone and everything, nearly including my life. It will not happen again, and my wife and children will not know what that is like._ _I presume your investigators have told you everything there is to know about me up until now. Your investigators will take this no further and destroy whatever evidence they've found so that my family remains safe. It is for that reason that contact after this letter will cease. I don't know if I would wish to continue contact even under other circumstances._

 _My sympathies for the loss of your husband. I know this is not the outcome you wished for. I wish things could've been different too._

 _Jason_

It was a painful letter to read and would be even more painful for his grandmother to receive. After everything he'd gone through in his life, now he had to sever ties with long-lost family. Drawing a deep breath, she stared at his elegant scrawl for a moment. No words could ease the pain he felt. No gesture could erase the loss. She searched his face. For the first time, a strong man didn't look back but a lost, grieving, and heartbroken twelve-year-old boy. A hole punched through her chest. Tears burned.

Setting down the letter, she crossed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. Rather than wrapping her arms around his chest like usual, she hooked one arm over his left shoulder and the other under his right arm. She held tight, this time protecting _him_ and offering _him_ sanctuary. He held so tight, as if soaking up every ounce of it.

"Jason, you don't have to be strong all the time. As far as the letter, there's no rush to send it tomorrow or this week. It is a bit blunt, but you explain why. It's far kinder than I think most people would reply." She pulled back a bit to look up at him. "I think you need to sit on it for a couple days until the emotions calm. If it is your last communication with her..." Biting her lip for a moment, she searched his face. "I think you might regret your word choice. It seems like you're speaking out of pain. I'm not saying you shouldn't send it, but I think you need some distance from it for a day or two."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry when I was in the safe." She stroked his cheek, aching to somehow spare him from his pain.

His brow knit and muscles slowly tensed. "What were you looking for?"

A flush crept up her face. "Well, you seem like the type who might've earned medals in service but not tell anyone. I was just wondering..."

"So, rather than asking you just poked around." His face became impassive as a wall rose.

Oh dear. The flush grew warmer. "I didn't think you'd want to say."

"No, I don't, actually." He practically spat the words and stepped away to the far wall. High on a shelf, a black box that blended in between some leather bound books.

Her stomach churned. He didn't want to do this. "Jason, you don't have to show me."

"And risk you breaking your neck climbing the ladder to poke around?" He walked over with the thick black velvet box as large as a textbook and dropped it on the desk.

She looked from the box to him with wide eyes. He almost never got hostile, but he was right that she shouldn't have poked around or pried. "I won't poke around." She turned to go, hurt that he was so angry and embarrassed over trying to sneak a peek.

"You look once and then this does not come out again." Steel hardened his voice.

She frowned and turned. It seemed odd that he didn't even want to discuss it.

His ice-cold glare killed any questions. He opened the box without even looking at it, and she stepped closer. Eight medals and a handful of small rectangular pins of various colors lay inside.

Her eyebrows shot up. Her husband was a very decorated veteran and she'd had no idea. "I don't understand. Why do you keep these tucked away in a box?" Tearing her gaze away, she looked up at him.

"For one, 'Jason' didn't earn them, Andrew did. Having them out blows our cover. For another, there's nothing honorable when men are killed, even if it's the enemy." The vile words spat from his lips and he slammed the lid shut. Without another word, he swiped it up and shoved it back on the shelf where it blended in. He turned, his shoulders tense and hands jammed back in his pockets.

"And I suspect at least one of those is from the fire." A soft, calm push might get him to open up about the war.

"We won't discuss it again." That was an order, clipped and firm like a command during war.

Studying the lines of tension around his eye and mouth, her eyes narrowed. His temper wanted to explode for some reason. "Alright, not another word that I just found out my husband is a highly decorated veteran. But may I ask one final question? What specialty did you hold in the Navy SEALS?"

He held her eyes, his fierce glare one that would've frightened her even three weeks ago. "Perhaps you want to reconsider your final question." Hatred bathed those words.

Her eyebrows snapped together.

"How many kills." Not a single muscle twitched in his face.

She blinked. So that is why he wouldn't talk about the war - guilt over the lives he'd taken. A minefield lay across the distance to him, leaving a volatile path to tread to reach him. He'd withdrawn all emotion but anger and hatred. Each word had to be calculated and precise to not set off an explosion that would create a canyon divider and take months to reach him again. A carefully hidden wire had almost been tripped by bringing up the medals - a wire she hadn't seen and a wire that he seemed to have thought camouflaged well enough to never be found.

Self-loathing oozed. With every heartbeat, his body seemed to tense a fraction more.

"It would be stupid to think you went on assignments so dangerous that other military were not sent in. You want to tell me your kill number, and you want me to hate whatever that number is." She searched his face for any sign of finding a crack in his armor. "I know you're a man who already asked for forgiveness for the lives you've taken. Each life you took was in self-defense or to save the lives of numerous others - "

"You don't know that," he cut in.

"I do know that because I know you. You want me to be horrified because it horrifies you." He still remained cold and impassive. She leaned a hip against the desk and looked down at her hands for a moment, gathering strength to say the unspeakable. Then she looked up at him.

"You served in the Middle East. I know that some countries have child suicide bombers." Her voice grew thick. She swallowed hard. "I don't know what it was like over there or what choices you had to make in split seconds, but it is not my place to judge. And until the day I'm in the same situation and have to make the same call, I will not judge." Her eyebrows rose a bit. "From the moment I found out you served, I knew that at some point you had to pull the trigger, whether to save your own hide or someone else's. But that never made me hesitate to love you." She shook her head the slightest bit. "And it doesn't frighten me because I know that each life taken wasn't done for the sake of killing."

His throat convulsed and the hard lines of his face softened ever so slightly.

Searching his eye, she stepped closer and rested a hand on his chest. "I won't lie - I'm glad you aren't serving anymore because I would be terrified every time you left that you wouldn't come back. I am proud to be the wife of a veteran, but I am prouder to be the wife of a man who respects each life lost, enemy or not."

His face softened into grief.

"Now, stop being a stoic, burly SEAL trying to push me away. It's alright to hurt and have regrets. Somehow I think the Foundation is a way to try to make up for what happened in the war." She wrapped her arms around him.

He looked away.

Raising onto her toes, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you," she whispered and brushed a kiss over his chin and neck. "I'll love you forever."

He just stood there with a sad look in his eye.

"Jay, talk to me. Let me show you that the past doesn't wane my affection." Another kiss to his jaw.

"I miss you, Emma," he whispered.

The words had been so soft that perhaps they'd been imagined. The hurt in his eye, however, belied the doubt. An ache formed deep inside. He seemed a bit sad these past three weeks...almost lonely, to a degree. This taking things slow physically, this separation at night as therapy seemed to be hard on him, even though she slept in his room three or four nights a week until the nightmares grew too stressful to have him witness. He suffered because of her, and it broke her heart. "I'm trying, Jay."

A small shake of his head, and that mournful blue eye searched hers. "Not the sex, Emma. The intimacy. The helping you in the bath. The laying in bed together and talking until midnight. The ease of each other's presence in Scotland."

She held his gaze. "Being best friends?"

"Being soul mates." Breaking eye contact, his shoulders squared a bit more and his body stiffened just a hint. "Forgive me. I'm pushing and shouldn't, and that's not what I mean to do." That blue eye closed briefly and when it opened, the sorrow had fled. In it's place rested that somewhat emotionally distant but steadfast man he'd learned to become these past weeks. "I think I'm stressed from that letter today. My apologies. I'll join you in the kitchen in a moment." He wanted time to pull himself together, time to be the rock again that he had been for three weeks.

Tears burned behind her eyes. "Jay...I didn't realize..." She swallowed hard. Since the therapist had told him not to talk to her about his emotions with all of this, he hadn't, come to think of it. The man had expertly sidestepped each time she'd questioned him. It was finally getting to him.

His eye shimmered. "You scream at night when you sleep with me - the nights you don't, you're silent. I have no family to offer you, a past that even my own grandmother pities, a husband you can't take in public, a face that will frighten the children...am I what's best for you, Emma?" The words came out thick and bleeding.

The tears spilled over. He'd been hurting and had hidden it so well. "Look at me." She caught his face in her hands and searched his eye. "I scream because next to you, it's safe to let the monsters out. I go in my room when it gets too humiliating or when you start looking exhausted from not sleeping. I lie awake half the night trying not to sleep so the nightmares won't come when I'm alone. Do you understand me?" Her voice quivered. "I do not scream because of nightmares of you. And I don't give a damn about what your grandma thinks. I pity _her_ for not knowing what an amazing grandson she has..." She crushed his robe in her fists in frustration. "I'm tired of living in the past! I want you to sweep me to the bedroom and make love right now!"

The man blinked.

She released his robe and dropped her gaze, the frustrated anger dissipating as fast as it'd come.

"Emma - "

She held up a hand but kept her head down as the tears burned. "I know. We aren't ready...I'm not ready. And if a baby happened..." A baby she'd give her own heart for. "I don't know if I ever am going to be ready like the therapist says will happen, if I ever am going to get better." God, the shame burned as much as the heartache.

His finger hooked under her chin and raised her gaze to his. "Never think there is something wrong with you. You _will_ heal, Emma."

"It's been almost five years." A hot tear rolled down.

"And new memories set us back nearly five years. We've only been working at this for three weeks. Be patient, sweetheart." His arms wrapped around.

Laying her head against his chest, she held tight as his heartbeat thudded in her ear. "It feels like we're drifting apart, though. She has you convinced to not open up to me anymore."

His hand stroked her back, but he didn't say anything. "Let's take a break and go relax with a movie." He let go, took her hand, and led the way out.

Just like other times, he walked right around the issue of the canyon growing between them the past weeks. "Exactly," she whispered with a broken heart.


	32. Chapter 32

Trudy sat in the kitchen with Pete when she walked in with Jason. "Dearie me, are ya feeling under the weather? You're going to bed with the sheep? It's only eight."

She let go of Jason's hand and headed over to the pot for making air popcorn. "No, we're watching a movie in bed." Then she dug out the oil and popcorn and heated up the pan.

"She's taking your place as his high-ya fighter, don'tcha know." Trudy's normally peppy voice had a bit extra pep in it.

"That slip of a thing?" Pete didn't sound convinced.

"That slip of a thing has more punch than you'd expect." Jason's tone held a note of pride. His arm slipped around her waist as she dumped the popcorn in the pan. "I daresay you have a run for your money, Stevens." Jason's breath stirred strands of hair against her cheek.

With a hard swallow, she shoved away the desire that threatened to ignite. "He's teasing you, Pete."

"Oh. Right." A forced laugh came out, but Pete seemed tense.

Trudy's mouth hung open. "Are you making a joke, Dr. Port?" Trudy's eyes widened. "It's been weeks since you haven't been cranky as a - " Her mouth snapped shut when Jason cleared his throat pointedly.

Odd. He hadn't seemed cranky lately. She glanced at his profile.

He leaned back against the stove near the open gas flame and folded his arms over his chest, his stern gaze still on Trudy.

"Would you not lean like that?" She pushed him away from the burner. "You're much too blaze around fire and it makes me nervous."

He snorted but straightened. "Fire doesn't phase me, Nervous Nelly."

She threw him a scowl. "Well, gee, I wonder why I'm nervous you're near fire." Maybe he was cranky.

"Sir, what would you like - ?" Trudy got up before anyone answered.

"I'm fine," he cut in a bit too quick.

She looked up with a frown. "Don't you like popcorn?"

His hands jammed in his pockets and he threw Trudy a look. "Popcorn is fine."

Trudy sat down but looked worried. Pete's face immediately planted in his cell phone. Jason's posture tensed.

Leaning over, she whispered, "Is this a big secret that I'm not supposed to know you don't eat popcorn?"

Instead of a smile at the teasing, his throat convulsed and he looked away.

Her smile faded - his pride stung. It must have to do with the scarring. Setting a hand on his chest, she looked at Trudy. "Will you watch the stove?" Then she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the foyer for privacy. "Jay, what's wrong? Is it difficult to eat popcorn or something? I don't see why that's such a big deal. We can have ice cream." She rested her hands on his chest.

His lips pressed together but his gaze fixated on the front door to the left. "With the esophageal damage, some things are more difficult than others. I don't wish to discuss it."

Slipping her arms around his waist, she looked up at him. "Jay, you don't need to look ashamed. We can have ice cream or something else."

He didn't wrap his arms around or make eye contact. Instead, he took her hand and returned to the kitchen.

Something was going on.

In bed, he sat against the pillows with an arm around her as the movie played on the laptop balanced on his legs. He sipped orange juice from his glass and straw but didn't take any of the popcorn. Prince, however, sat beside the bed on full alert for any flying pieces.

"Is it the kernels in the middle? We can pull them off." She craned her head back.

"No, I'm fine." His eye didn't wander from the screen. The man couldn't be paying attention to the movie - the chick flic about a girl breaking up with her loser boyfriend kept going downhill with each passing minute.

"That was sad when the boy's dog died." She peeked up to see if he'd fall for the trap.

"Yeah." He didn't even blink.

"Ha!" She shot upright and pointed at him. "You aren't even watching!"

He startled.

"Screw this." She shoved away the laptop and bowl of popcorn, rose to her knees, and pulled off her robe.

"What are you doing?" His eye bugged.

"I'm going to have wild sex with the mailman. What do you mean 'what am I doing'?" She rolled her eyes and peeled off her nightgown.

The man's eye practically popped out of his head and he pressed back into the pillows as she climbed on his lap. "Emma, we aren't supposed to - "

With a naughty smile, she tossed her hair over one shoulder to get it out of the way and tugged at his robe sash. "Where's that dare-devil teenager?" Then she opened his robe and frowned. "A pajama shirt? Really. You're too fine to be wearing shirts to bed. I told you that last week." She undid the top few buttons before he snapped out of his stupor.

He caught her wrists. "Emma, I'm serious. We are not having sex until the therapist says it's alright."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But there's nothing wrong with repeating our wedding night." Brushing a kiss over his lips, she flicked her tongue out just enough to taste him.

The man drew a sharp breath and cleared his throat. His voice didn't have as much sternness as he probably intended. "We are not doing anything."

"Do you want me?" she breathed against his lips and settled her weight down in his lap where his pajama bottoms strained.

His mouth fell open in a soft gasp and his hands tightened on her wrists. The poor man's desire grew tenfold in an instant. "God, yes," he breathed.

"Then take off your clothes and kiss me like our wedding night," she whispered and nipped his lip. "Like in Scotland."

A throaty groan vibrated out of him, fueling the spark of passion. His eye fluttered shut. "I can't. I won't stop." The whispered words seemed to cause him agony. He let go of her wrists and his arms pulled her against his bare chest. A half moan, half growl broke the silence as she leaned in to kiss him again. "Oh god, I haven't felt your bare breasts against my chest in so long."

She pulled her head back. Need and starvation filled each line of his face. It wasn't sex or pleasure that he craved, it was to be touched with affection - more than holding hands or receiving a peck on the lips. He still starved for human touch from all those missed years.

Pushing the robe and nightshirt down his arms, she glided her hands over his hard, smooth muscles and nibbled his neck. He was so beautiful. Heat pooled between her thighs. "Jay." The breathless word slipped out before her heart took off racing.

A soft pant whisped pasted his lips and his head tilted to the side to grant her better access as his hands cupped her bottom and held her close. Her hand glided over the shoulder scars as she nipped his ear, sending his poor heart thundering as his desire against her belly grew. He seemed to find so much pleasure in the scars being touched even though he couldn't feel it - as if aroused because of being loved and accepted for what he'd thought damned. And it hurt to see him react so strongly to it.

"Do you find pleasure in me?" His voice came out husky and breathless. That gorgeous blue eye opened and searched her face for truth.

"As much as you find in me," she whispered and shifted her weight, kissing and flicking her tongue over the delicate, warped flesh on his chest and shoulder. To prove it, she guided his hand to her panties where the desire throbbed. "I want you, Jay." When he ever so lightly cupped, a soft cry of passion broke from her lips. Need skyrocketed, making every muscle tremble to not move with the desire to calm the fire.

"You're so ready for me, and I haven't even touched you." The thought seemed to amaze and stun him.

Her fingers dug into the thick muscles of his back as she clung to him, pressing her lips against his shoulder for a moment to not let the whole household know what he did...even though he did nothing that may as well have been everything. "You walk into a room lately, and I'm ready for you." Her heart pounded.

Silence.

Oh god, the passion. "Touch me or take your hand away, Jay." The beg came forth as desperate as the throbbing desire.

"Emma." Skepticism colored his voice like he didn't believe he could be desired that readily.

An ache formed over him still not having that security, that confidence. But the marriage had regressed several steps backwards these last weeks and ground had been lost for him too. "Touch me if you don't believe," she whispered against his lips. He seemed to hesitate, so she guided his fingers underneath the undergarment.

He did not stroke or penetrate - the pads of his fingers simply laid against her. Something in his touch changed, although he didn't move. Pulling her head back, she searched his calm, gentle gaze.

The raw, hot passion died down and tender, beautiful love took it's place. This was what the wedding night and Scotland had been. This was the bond that had been missing these past weeks. This calmness, this beauty. This gentleness and security. With no more than a tender touch and a gentle gaze, he shattered and melted and strengthened her heart all at once. Stroking his cheek, she searched his eye. The emotion robbed her voice of speaking louder than a lover's whisper in the night. "I desire you and love you, Jay. That has not changed."

"I want more than anything to make love to you, but I fear frightening you somehow." Dear heaven, the loneliness in his eye made her own burn with unshed tears.

What the therapist had failed to consider is whatever fear could stem from physical intimacy, the loss of emotional intimacy from this was far more damaging now. She brushed a kiss over his brow and his cheek and then his lips. "You do not frighten me."

Worry still clouded his gaze. "We will not have sex, but do you feel safe to do this?"

With a nod, she stroked his warped shoulder. "Tell me where you can feel me, Jay." Lowering her head, she brushed soft kisses and small flicks of her tongue over his chest burn, despite wanting nothing more than to toss aside his mask and kiss his face.

His chest rose and fell a bit faster and his hand pulled away to grip her thigh. Tension remained in his muscles.

She started to pull back. He didn't seem to want this.

"Oh god, Emma," he whispered, his breaths coming faster as his head tilted back into the pillow. His other hand buried in her hair and held tight without pulling. "Near the edges. I can feel you." So much pleasure and awe filled his voice. When she shifted to caress his shoulder, his hand rested over hers, as if to paint in his mind what he could not feel. His eye drifted closed in pleasure.

It broke her heart. A tear fell from her lashes onto the thick, pinkish-silver scars. Closing her eyes, the love flowed out in each kiss, each touch. Slight pressure on his shoulders convinced him to lie down on his back while she continued the kisses.

When he seemed all but ready to purr, she touched the mask but still sprinkled kisses on the edges of his neck burn just below the mask. "Let me kiss here too."

His breathing stilled.

"In the dark," she added before he could reject. Sitting up a bit, she searched his face.

His throat convulsed in a hard swallow, and his heart thundered under her hand. "When we're just starting to be intimate again is not the time."

"Or perhaps it's the perfect time for me to learn to associate the burns with you, Jay. With pleasure and love."

Humiliation dulled his eye and he pushed himself up enough to recline against the pillows, thereby forcing her to sit up. "Or it's the worst time to remind you what you sleep next to."

No anger or bitterness tinged his tone, but the coldness of his word choice stunned for a moment.

"Emma, I do not look human. That is cold, hard fact that you keep trying to talk yourself out of. It is humiliating to make my wife look upon that, and it's triggered understandable hesitation in you before."

She frowned. "Do I make you feel - "

His cell phone rang on the nightstand. He frowned. "Let me make sure it's not the Foundation with an emergency." When he picked it up, his frown deepened. "Jason Port." His expression immediately stoned over. "Yes, sir."

Her brow furrowed. He never said 'sir' to anyone except Dad and...her stomach dropped. Oh god, it had to be the SEALS.

He shot out of bed and started shedding his clothes while tucking the phone against his ear with his shoulder. "Affirmative." Then he tossed the phone on the bed and darted in the closet.

The shock cut off at the flip of a switch and fear drove the anger. "You told me you were discharged!"

"I was." His calm voice came from the closet. "I'm called when there's an emergency situation in the mountains." He stepped out in the black ski mask, camouflage clothes, and military boots.

Her eyes bugged and voice practically screeched. "Where the hell did you have that stashed?!"

"Walk with me." Grabbing her hand, he plowed out the door and down the hall at a pace she had to trot to keep up. "I have a supply of things to be ready if they call for something." Then he bellowed, "Pete! Get the chopper going! Now!"

"Yes, sir!" Pete's voice came from the kitchen and he didn't bat an eye at Jason's attire as he tore past upstairs.

"Who is _they_?" She swept down the stairs and followed Jason into his office.

"SEALS." He leaned into a bookcase to the right of his desk. It clicked and then he heaved it out on a hinge. The man stuck a key in a nearly invisible keyhole and pulled, opening what had been a perfectly camouflaged door. Several types of guns hid inside. He pulled out a gun holster and strapped it on.

The blood drained to her toes. These weren't just guns, they were military-grade weapons. "Oh my god," she breathed.

"Emma, I'll explain when I get back. I didn't think I'd ever need these. I planned on showing you tomorrow when we were going to practice shooting." He shoved a handgun in the holster, along with a massive-looking walke talkie. Then he snatched a sophisticated rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

Her knees threatened to give out when he packed a couple magazines in his pantleg pockets. "Holy shit, what are they sending you out for?"

"Don't leave this house. If anyone comes to the door, do not open it." He wouldn't look at her as he put in his last gear. "Keep your cell phone on you and call me immediately if someone gets in the house." Then he handed her a gun. "Point and shoot. And be certain it's not Trudy or Pete because you'll blow someone in half with this. So far it's contained to a nearby city, so you should be safe. I'll send Pete back immediately."

He either didn't explain because it was so dangerous and he didn't want her to worry, or it was incredibly top secret. Tears welled but refused to fall. "They called a SEAL because you're closest and know how to be a one-man team." Her eyes fell to the rifle over his shoulder. "You were a sniper."

"I trained briefly but ended up becoming the lead breacher and lead medic."

"Do I want to know what a lead breacher is?"

"Probably not." The final thing he snatched - a military helmet to keep bullets from going into his brain. It dangled from his fingers like a horrible omen.

Stepping closer, she set a hand on his chest - an unfamiliar chest covered in bullet-proof material and ammo. Tears blurred everything. He was going out in the dark, half blind and half deaf. It had to be something bad to call in a retired, injured vet.

Her heart thundered and hands shook for him. "Do you have your hearing device?"

He nodded and lowered his head. His lips pressed in a kiss full of love. And a hint of fear.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down and pressed against him as much as possible. His arms wrapped around as her tongue dove into his mouth, without a care for the mask. There was more to this mission that he wasn't saying - more danger that he didn't want her to know. "You come home, you hear?" The tears fell. "And then you tell me the real reason they called you. You're loaded up like you're going to blow up terrorists." She pulled back when he didn't answer.

"I have to go, Emma." Then he kissed like it was the last one.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone. Heavy footsteps thundered up the steps. A minute later, the chopper whirling faded away.

Trudy ran in with wide eyes. "Hootin' blowfish, what's going on?"

"I don't know." She ran to the cabin room and flipped on the TV, Trudy's footsteps right behind.

A news channel flashed an emergency broadcast. "The death toll is at fifteen, with five being children, leaving an estimated one hundred fifty hostages in the school from this national basketball tournament event," the newsreporter said from across the street of a school. Police and SWAT cars littered the scene in the background. A portion of the building smoked. "Authorities have tried negotiations to no avail for the past half hour."

"Malcolm High School. That's about an hour of here," Trudy whispered in horror.

It had to be what Jason had been called in for.

The reporter held a hand to her ear. "Another broadcast is coming in from the school. They are claiming to be part of a Middle East terrorist group and are threatening to execute everyone inside. They claim to have nuclear explosives inside." Gunfire sounded in the background. The reporter looked terrified as she ducked behind a car with the cameraman. Her voice quivered. "Word is the Navy SEALS are being called in from the nearest cities to form a team. This is one of the worst hostage situations on American soil in history." Lots of commotion came from the background and several bodies fell out of the third-story window. And didn't move.

She covered her mouth in horrified shock. The death toll had just risen. These terrorists were killing small masses to make a point and too fast for police or SWAT to handle. They needed SEALS to storm in and take out the terrorists if there was any hope for the rest of the hostages. And Jason was walking right into the middle of it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! The end of this chapter seems depressing, but this whole chapter and the last one were set up to lead to "better pastures." :)**

* * *

She stood on the helipad with a heavy bag of nearly all the other weapons in Jason's stash. The wind from the blades whipped her hair as Pete landed the chopper. She raced up to the door and climbed in before he could turn off the engine.

"No!" he barked over the noise. "He said I'm not to take you. There's a hostage situation - "

"And a death toll of twenty-five now, with several of them children. They're sending in SEALS from wherever possible to form a team until they can get backup out there."

He shut down the engine. "And, what, you're going to go barging into a war zone with a bag of weapons for him?!" His brow snapped together.

"I'm not sitting at home doing nothing!"

"Did that gunfight in the woods teach you nothing?! He went to war without you there to make sure he wiped - "

"Don't you dare." She pointed a finger at him. "If it was your spouse, you know you wouldn't just sit at home."

"I've had police training! You don't know what they hell goes on out there. It's not safe. I'm not arguing this with you." He climbed out.

She looked out her open door as he came around to go inside. All the fight left her voice, replaced with threatening tears. "Pete, they think there are at least twenty terrorists, maybe more. They claim to have explosives." He didn't understand - the news said it was a dangerous operation, with no hint of surprise that the SEALS relied on.

He stopped but didn't turn.

"This platoon has never worked together to know each other's strengths and weaknesses. You promise me that if his platoon storms that, he's going to come home." The tears fell. "You know there will be casualties. He's going in there half deaf and half blind on top of it all. He seemed scared when he left, Pete. If he lives long enough for them to pull him out, don't deny me being there."

When he turned, he struggled to shield his thoughts. At best, he didn't seem to expect Jason to make it home in the same condition he'd left.

She prayed the entire fifteen-minute ride as Pete pushed the chopper to full speed.

* * *

Stupid crowds gathered and police had to hold them behind the yellow tape. Floodlights were set up everywhere around the school.

"Emma, this is close enough." Pete clamped a hand on her arm.

Panic and fear over losing Jason drowned all sound out except for any hint of his voice. The SEALS didn't appear to have stormed the school yet. He needed more weapons. Maybe having one extra gun would be what would save his life. Come hell or high water, she'd get it to him. With a quick jerk, Pete's fingers slipped off her arm.

"Emma!" Pete called.

Shoving through the crowd on the street with the bag of impossibly heavy weapons, she scanned for anyone wearing gear like Jason's who could get this to him. Police and SWAT were everywhere. And Jason was nowhere. Dear god, maybe they'd snuck in the back of school and it was too late. Sweat broke out on her brow in the chilly spring night air. He needed another gun. He needed it!

She plowed through the crowd, feeling insanity take over. It was almost hysterical to think that one more gun would make a difference when there were how many terrorists and explosives inside. But it was the only thing she could give to protect him. It was the only thing to do to help him. The prospect of losing him made it suddenly become her sole purpose in life to get the gun to him.

A group of men putting on gear like Jason's inside an armored truck near the edge of the crowd, almost on the back side of the school that didn't have any lights shining on it. Darting under the tape to take them the gear, she jerked to a halt when someone grabbed her arm.

"What do you got in there?" A cop eyed the bag with suspicion.

"My husband was one of the SEALS sent in. I brought more of his weapons."

The man immediately whipped out a gun and pointed it at her. "Drop the bag!"

People screamed and ran away.

She jumped, her heart popping into her throat. Dear god, even the police were on edge and trigger happy. She held out her hands and slowly reached for the strap to set down the bag.

"What the fuck?!" A deep voice roared with a hint of a Scottish accent. "Put the gun down. She's my wife." Jason appeared from the opposite direction of the truck and lowered the policeman's arms.

Oh dear. Here came the real danger.

Jason stormed straight to her, his eye blazing. He grabbed the bag and her arm and dragged her behind the truck where they'd be safe from flying bullets. "Are ye fuckin' insane? Jesus Christ, you're like Lois fuckin' Lane trying to get yourself killed every time there's danger!" He shoved her up against the truck and looked around, apparently on alert for any danger.

So much relief swept through seeing him alive and unharmed. "If you'd stop swooping in like damn Superman, then maybe I wouldn't have to keep following you!"

The bit of his face that did show through the mask holes was bright red with fury. His eye narrowed and he slammed a palm against the truck near her shoulder. His force echoed inside the truck. "There's fucked up terrorists murdering everyone and threatening to blow things up, and ye come w' a bag of weapons?! I'll kill him. I'll damn kill him. Tell Stevens his idiot arse is fired as soon as he gets you home. Get out of here!"

Showing up unannounced in the middle of this had scared him. "Jay, I just wanted to bring you extra guns and be here if you get hurt." Or died.

His face softened. "Emma, I know you're scared. It'll be alright. Please, go so I can focus on doing this and not distracted worried about if you're safe."

If being gone would give him a clear head, she'd go down the street with Pete to be near just in case but let Jason think she was back home and safe. "Alright, if it will give you a clear head so you don't get hurt." She pecked a kiss on his lips.

Machine gunfire broke out. Screams rang. He jerked her down behind a tire and covered her body with his as he pulled out a gun. "Get out of here as soon as I tell you to run," he said against her ear under the noise of the chaos breaking loose. He peeked around the truck. Gunfire rang out from the windows of the school this time. From almost every window. The people in the street screamed, some of them falling despite the large distance from the school. Bullets ricocheted off vehicles. Jason stood, shielding her with his legs as he fired over the hood of the truck.

Blood roared in her ears louder than the screams or rain of fire. The booming of his gun vibrated in her chest. Intense terror. Massive chaos. Blood beginning to bathe the street. This wasn't even war. And it was horrifying.

The gunfire ceased. He dropped down and reloaded his gun. "Shit. There are more than we thought. They're trying to take out anyone who might stop them because they're going to detonate the place." Horror filled his eye that melted into the stern determination of a man ready to protect his country. He pressed some kind of strap around his neck and spoke in what must be military code. Then he let go and his eye focused on her. "As soon as we storm the place, they'll concentrate fire on us and draw in. You get back to the chopper and get out." His mouth crushed against hers and he handed her a gun. "I love you, Emma." Then he grabbed a second rifle out of the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and darted over to the group of ten other men in similar gear.

Another gun. Dear god, he'd thankfully taken another gun from the bag - a second gun that instinct said would be the one to save his life.

Her heart stopped when one of the SEALS turned to the SWAT and police and raised a hand. Oh god, they were going to do something. All the floodlights went off, cloaking everything in pitch blackness for just a few seconds until everyone's eyes adjusted to the moonlight. Dear god, the platoon was going in the pitch black. Glass shattered from around the side of the school. Deafening booms and huge flashes went off, illuminating everything. The SEALS must've thrown in flash bombs to stun the terrorists. Shadows of the men disappeared into the smoke. Gunfire erupted inside. And went on and on and on. Tears welled and her chest heaved. No. No, no, no, no. It'd been a trap. He couldn't have survived that. Her mouth fell open in a horrified sob, but no sound came out. Oh god.

Everything went silent.

"Drop your weapons! Now!" Male voices screamed inside. Either a few of the SEALS had survived and were being taken hostage, or terrorists were being captured. More gunfire.

"Drop t' gun!" There was no mistaking that Scottish accent.

Oh thank god, he was still alive for now. But he was facing someone who held a gun. More gunfire.

Police and SWAT moved in closer to the back of the school, closer to her truck. She peeked out from behind the truck to see if it was safe to make a run for it.

A young man in civilian clothes, somewhat bloodied, stood right there. He looked at her and raised his gun.

Whipping up the gun Jason had left, she fumbled to aim in the panic.

A gun fired, and she screamed and ducked, waiting for the pain. A thud hit the ground. She blinked and lifted her head. The man lay on the ground staring lifelessly with blood soaking the back of his shirt. Just a few yards behind the man, a silhouette with a SEAL-shaped helmet knelt in the school doorway and lowered a gun. Even in the darkness, his gaze bore in as a warning to get out while she still could. Then he melted back into the darkness. Jason.

Pete waived her over from where he shoved through to the front of the crowd. His eyes scanned the building and he set a hand under his coat, as if ready to whip out a gun.

She took a peek to make sure it was clear and then ran to him.

He grabbed her arm and kept running. Across the street and around the corner of a building, he stopped and pulled her against the wall beside him. "I don't know how the hell he knew to come out and shoot that guy. I saw that guy slip out the door through the smoke and tried to get through the crowd to get to you. Dr. Port appeared out of nowhere, as if knowing you were in trouble. I swear to God, I'm thankful I don't have a daughter if she'd have been anything like you. I'd have gray hair by now."

She grabbed his sleeve. "He took the extra gun." There should've been tears and shaking from almost having her head blown off, but the exhilaration of Jason still being alive overrode fear for her own safety.

Ambulances flew down the street toward the school.

"Pete, we gotta go help get the injured off the street. The less protecting the SEALS have to do of civilians outside, the more they can concentrate on getting out the ones inside." She started to head back there.

He grabbed her arm. "No. I shouldn't have brought you, and he wouldn't want you that close. The last thing cops want is more civilians in the mix."

She looked around the building. The crowd had thinned to less than a third, mostly the injured left behind. "If Jason is in there risking his life to get people out, the least we can do is make sure they stay alive." Shaking him off, she trotted back to the scene.

Adrenaline was the only thing that kept the bile in her stomach. Paramedics and firemen swarmed the scene to get the most critical into the ambulances. The bullet vest from the police and surgical gown and gloves from the paramedics made it a bit cumbersome to help the injured across the street behind a building, but it was a distraction and a job to do to keep from thinking about the gunfire still going on inside the school. Hostages gradually were released in sporadic groups from the school between rounds of gunfire - the ones who appeared critically injured.

About ten more civilians ran out, three men carrying a SEAL. Her heart stopped. "Here, keep pressure on this." She let go of the shirt wadded up to use as a bandage to keep pressure on a man's bullet wound in his leg while. Pete took over. "Please no," she whispered and ran across the street. The SEAL hung limp as they loaded him onto a stretcher.

"What happened?" She ran full speed, screeching to a halt and trying to see his face as they loaded him in the ambulance.

"He took a round to the chest. The vest must've given out because he's bleeding and unconscious." Then man who spoke wore civilian's clothes and looked shaken up.

Her heart stopped. She shoved between them to get to the injured man. A glimpse of the right side of his face was enough. No scars. Thank god. She turned to the hostages who had just come out. "The other SEALS are they alright?"

"I couldn't tell you. It's hell in there."

All she could do was hope and pray. "Come, let's make sure you aren't hurt."

SWAT tried to storm in when she stood near one of the policeman while taking care of another injured hostage. A blaze of gunfire went off in the school. "Order yer men ta retreat! Repeat, SWAT abort!"

She froze at the frantic scream of a familiar voice over the radio. The SWAT had somehow set off the terrorists into another killing frenzy.

"SWAT abort!" Another man's voice came over the radio.

The SWAT team ran out of the building and gunfire calmed a few seconds later.

Exhaustion and stress took hold after another half hour. More hostages trickled out every half hour. Escapees said the SEALS were smuggling out hostages. Sometimes the hostages brought out the bodies of their loved ones. Two more were said to be injured inside. Fear mounted. With each SEAL went down, if left Jason that much more vulnerable...if he wasn't one of those already hurt.

The death toll had risen to forty. An estimated thirty hostages remained inside, alongside an estimated six SEALS. And who knew how many terrorists.

When the last of the critical for the moment had been loaded in the ambulances, she walked over to the SWAT team back near the road with the ambulances. They silenced when they saw her.

She looked down at the blood-covered gown, too exhausted and strained to care. "How many terrorists are left?" The fear had been so intense this past hour that felt like days that it had burned itself out. "My husband is one of the SEALS."

The man who seemed to be in charge had a sad look cross his face. "Ten are dead, five are captured. The SEALS are still doing a sweep. Are you a nurse?"

She shook her head, feeling so old all of the sudden. "I can't even stand the sight of blood. I just hope that if one of those injured SEALS in there is my husband, someone is taking care of him."

Another handful of injured hostages came out, along with one unconscious SEAL who wasn't Jason. Each minute seemed like an hour, and madness spurred determination - as if the harder she worked to help save these people, the harder someone inside would try to keep Jason alive. The gore no longer shocked or threatened to churn her stomach. Being a small town in the middle of Colorado, the hospital was overloaded and the less critical were stabilized on the street well enough to be transported an hour away to the next hospital.

The paramedics and a couple hostages who were nurses gave crash EMT courses as she and a couple other civilians helped stabilize the injured.

A massive explosion out of nowhere shook everything. Everyone froze. She stared at Pete, who knelt across from her holding pressure on a belly wound while she held pressure on a neck wound. The world stilled. Forcing her head to turn to look at the school, every muscle braced for her world to crumble.

The back wing of the school was obliterated. Smoke rose from the pile of rubble.

Everyone stared in shock.

Seconds later, hostages came running out of the front of the school. A paramedic took her patient. She stood and stared at the doors, willing him to come out.

SEALS emerged with terrorists in handcuffs - four SEALS.

Breaking into a run, she shot across the street but a policeman held her back. "Wait. We don't know if there are more explosives."

None of these SEALS wore a mask. But maybe he'd pulled it off for some reason. Her heart beat faster. They came closer, all with two eyes.

"Two more! Where are the other two?!" She struggled to get away from the officer in a panic. They couldn't have left him behind, even if he was dead.

One of the SEALS smiled and turned to point at the truck several meters away.

Two SEALS knelt with their rifles aimed at the school to cover the men heading for safety yet. One of the men was larger than the other.

A sob of relief escaped.

When the four SEALS reached safety, the other two retreated too.

She ripped off her bloody gown and gloves and ran full speed at the one wearing the black ski mask.

His teeth glowed through the hole of the mouth and his arms opened wide.

She jumped into him arms, holding tight around his neck and not caring that his gear might leave bruises where it dug in. He smelled like smoke and sweat - beautiful because it meant he was alive. Tears burst out.

"It's alright, Em. It's over." He pressed a kiss against her neck as best he could with his helmet on.

"I love you. I love you." She pressed kisses against his lips and the cheek of his damp mask and his nose and eye.

He chuckled. "I love you. God, I'm glad you're here but I didn't know it. I see you were playing nurse out here." He set her down with a soft, uncharacteristic grunt. "I have to go debrief and then we should see if they need more help with patients."

She frowned and searched his camouflage clothing for blood. "Why did you grunt? Are you hurt?" His shirt had a darker spot on his right shoulder.

When she reached for it, he turned his shoulder away. "Just a scratch. Stay back behind the police. I'll be back in a few minutes." Then he let go and walked over to the platoon.

Grabbing another gown and pair of gloves, she returned to the paramedics to see what else needed to be done, but her eye kept wandering to Jason. He seemed to favor his right arm.

One of the SEALS walked over a few minutes later with a limp. "Ma'm? If I could trouble you for a bandage quick."

She grabbed one of out the ambulance. "Do you need one of the nurses to stitch?" It was nice having another solid distraction until Jason could come.

"We learned how to fix ourselves up good enough in training, ma'm. Just a bandage and I can see to the rest." When she handed it over, he didn't say anything as he took it. "That husband of yours has some real balls."

"I beg your pardon?" She blinked at him.

He gestured toward Jason. "He led the platoon, ma'm. MAde some wise calls that the rest of us I'm sure wouldn't have. He got all of us out alive. He saved a lot of lives too - he had us evacuate the hostages out of the wing of the school that ended up exploding. He's a hero, ma'm. Thank you for the bandage." He nodded and then returned to the platoon.

Jason walked over a minute later as the SWAT and police took over securing everything. He pulled off his helmet but didn't smile. "Who needs help first?" His guns must've been left back in the platoon truck. Favoring his arm just a bit, he peeled off the Kevlar, his long-sleeved shirt underneath soaked with perspiration. He stripped that off too, leaving only a tan t-shirt underneath. Then he reached for a bandage, keeping his right side out of view.

"The hospital is on bypass, so we're doing our best to stabilize here and then get them to the hospital to be MedFlighted out to a hospital an hour away. The more stable ones are across the street being cared for until the ambulances return." She pulled on fresh gloves and intercepted the bandage. Blood had dried down his arm. His calmness somehow drew out her own after all the chaos. "Let me see, Jay."

He turned away. "We have people about to die that need our attention."

"And a doctor who can't do anything until he's at least patched up." That made him give in and turn. A small hole had ripped his shirt - the size of a bullet. Blood had soaked his shirt an area the size of her palm. His face remained expressionless. Biting her lip for a moment, she held back the urge to coddle and fret. The bullet had to still be in his shoulder, but he wouldn't be one to take medical care before making sure everyone else was taken care of. She stuck a couple fingers in the hole of his shirt and ripped it open. The bullet had gone just under his collarbone and looked like it had just missed the shoulder bone. Any farther off and it would've shattered his shoulder or gone through a lung. Without a word, she poured antiseptic over it, trying hard to ignore his painful pants as she dried and taped a bandage over it. The second she let go, he threw on a gown, snatched up gloves, and knelt beside the paramedic of a woman with an abdominal gunshot.

She stood back for a moment, trying to shove away the heartache of watching him push through the pain to help others. It took only seconds before he had order to the chaos and doled out instructions to everyone who was able to help, assigning tasks and creating efficiency. He ordered the floodlights to be turned up. No one questioned the ski mask. He worked with a vengance...as if trying to make up for the lives he hadn't been able to save.

"He's not breathing! My husband isn't breathing!" A woman's scream tore through the air a couple meters away.

Jason shot over and checked the man as she hurried through the path of a makeshift hospital on the street. God, if Jason started CPR, his muscles contracting might force the bullet closer to his lung. If it'd gone in at an angle, it might be rubbing against his lung already. He rose to his knees and set his hands on the man's chest. "No!" She dove to her knees and pushed his arms away, setting her hands on the large man's chest herself. "Don't or you'll tear up your shoulder."

It took every ounce of strength to do compressions on the man who was larger than Jason. With the calmness and precision as if he did this every day, Jason drew up drugs and worked around her to rip open the man's shirt for using the cardiac arrest paddles. "Does your husband have cardiac issues? Is he allergic to any meds?" He fired off questions to the wife.

"No. He was talking and all the sudden went unconscious." The woman sobbed hysterically.

She panted and sweat trickled down her back with the effort. It'd been less than a minute and her strength drained. "Jason." His name came out in a breathless pant.

"Hold on, Emma. I'm coming." He got the EKG hooked up. "Emma, stop. He's in fibrillation." In a heartbeat, he whipped out the paddles and then pulled her hands away. His eye swept around to everyone. "Clear!" The man only flinched from the shock, rather than a full body convulsion like in the movies. He watched the screen. "Em."

She started compressions again as he pumped in more meds.

"Clear!" He held her hands to keep her back and fired the defibrillator again.

By the time a heartbeat blipped across the small screen, her shirt was soaked in perspiration. She looked around as Jason helped load the man in an ambulance. Only a handful of less critical patients remained on the street waiting for an ambulance.

A paramedic clapped Jason on the back. "Go home. We can take it from here."

He pulled off the medical gear and glanced at her on his way past as he headed over to a couple SEALS still behind. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

She pulled off the gloves and surgical gown without looking away from his back. He walked different in his military garb - more of a swagger like a bad-ass to be reckoned with. When he climbed in the truck and a Scottish curse broke through the darkness, she wandered over.

"Ugh, shit!" Jason cursed again.

A couple male laughs followed. "Do you want me to do this or should we stick you in one of those ambulances, man?"

"Shut t' hell up. I'm not goin' to t' damn hospital," Jason half panted, half barked.

She peeked inside. Jason laid on the floor inside the back of the armored truck, with a SEAL on each side of him. One wore gloves and held medical tweezers or some sort of medical tool. Her jaw fell open in shock. "What are you doing?!"

Jason lifted his head for a moment and a curse escaped from under his breath. He dropped his head back down. The other two men snickered.

She climbed inside.

"Emma, get out - "

The SEAL dug in his shoulder again.

"Ugh, fuck!" Jason panted and knocked the man's hand away. "Wait until she's gone." He glared at the SEAL.

The men smothered laughs. "You're being chicken shit. Just let me dig it out."

Apparently this was some way of male communication or bonding. "You're all a bunch of idiots." She set her hands on her hips.

All three of them silenced and stared at her.

"You two," she pointed, "out." Then she pointed at Jason. "You're going to the hospital - "

"Fuck hell, he'll agree to that," the other SEAL, a young one, murmured.

Jason smacked him upside the head. "Don't cuss in front of the lady."

"You did!" He gaped in dismay.

"You don't have a bullet in your shoulder, dumbass."

If he hadn't been in pain, the scene would've been a bit comical.

"Unless if you have medic training, get out." She glared at them and pointed at the door. Goodness, even a year ago being near three men would've triggered a panic attack. Now she ordered them about, three SEALS no less.

Both men timidly raised their hands.

Rolling her eyes, she heaved a sigh. "Oh, this is like a bad joke."

One of the men chuckled. "I heard this joke about a - "

Her pointed look shut him up. She grabbed the small bag of supplies and looked inside. "Really." Her eyebrow rose. "You're using a battlefield kit when we have an ambulance right around the corner. You three are unbelievable." She got up. "If you want to be stupid and have it dug out like the seventeenth century by macho, adrenaline junkies - "

"Thank you," one of the men grinned.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Be my guest, Jay. But don't expect sympathy from me." Hopping out, she slammed the truck door so hard that it bounced open again and marched away to find Pete so as not to hear Jason's screams of self-inflicted agony.

"Damn, she's got some spunk. And she's hot. Does she have a sister?" the SEAL with the tweezers asked.

"Yeah, you're her sister," Jason snapped. "Ow! Dammit, you could give warning!"

Pete stood near the ambulance with a smirk, clearly having heard the conversation. He fell into step as she stormed past. "It's a guy thing to try to be macho in front of the guys and a girl. I think he wants to avoid being in the hospital overnight too."

She snorted. "He's in for a surprise. We're making a pit stop at the hospital on the way home."

"Oh, come now. The man had a rough night and hates being in the hospital. He's a doctor and can tell you how to treat the wound."

Throwing him a glance, she kept marching. "You sound like he paid you off to say that."

"No, I just feel sorry for the man. Where are we going?"

"I don't know." She heaved an exasperated breath and stopped half way down the block.

"Come, let's go wait for him. Your nerves are frazzled, I imagine." He set an arm around her shoulders and led the way back to the street still filled with law enforcement.

Jason stepped out of the back of the truck and headed over, his face years older than when he'd arrived hours ago. He eased on his camouflage shirt with a wince and stopped inches away. Pete mumbled something about going to find the chopper.

She searched his face. "Did they get the bullet out?"

"They did." He seemed so serious.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you in front of them." The fear and worry and grief that had been shoved down in order to get through the night finally bubbled up. Tears welled. "You scared the hell out of me." Her lip quivered. "I'm not made to be a soldier's wife. I know I'm supposed to hug you and say how proud I am...but I want to punch you."

A surprised laugh barked out of him and his teeth glowed through the mask hole. "You scared the hell out of me too. But I'd rather have a woman who runs toward fire to bring me more guns and stays on the field to care for the injured than a woman who stays home like I tell her. I want a woman not afraid to punch me instead of falling to pieces. I want a strong woman who stays by my side no matter what battle we face." Emotion thickened his voice.

She looked up at him and the tears fell. "One of the men said you led the platoon and made judgement calls that saved dozens of lives. I heard you on some of the radio calls. I know there were casualties that I don't think anyone could've prevented. And then you came out here and saved more lives as a doctor." Emotion robbed her voice of strength so that it came no louder than a whisper. "I'm so proud of you, not for being a hero to the masses but because you tried to be a hero to each soul."

His gaze fell to the small distance between them. "Not each soul, Emma. I took lives tonight, and that is not heroic."

Closing the distance, she stepped closer and cupped his damp mask in her hands as she searched his eye. "Lives that meant to murder by the masses. If you hadn't taken any lives, I'd be dead from that man and this entire block of people would've been in an explosion that you figured out how to contain."

Tears glittered in his eye. "You don't see me as a killer?"

That ripped her heart. "Never, Jason." She rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Then she searched his eye. "We can stop by Father Bob's if that makes you feel better. Then let's go home."

His arms wrapped around and held so tight.

He remained silent in the chopper, except for calling Father Bob at nearly one in the morning to ask to talk. Pete landed the chopper just outside of town, a couple blocks from the church.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." He hopped out. When he turned to shut the door, she opened her mouth to ask if he wanted her to go along, but he shook his head. It was something he needed to do alone.

He seemed more at peace when he returned and took her hand in the chopper this time.

At home on the helipad, he hung back as Pete went inside. Then he finally broke the silence. "Put your clothes in the trash, even if they don't look bloody. You shower and then I will. Are you absolutely certain you didn't get blood on your bare skin?"

"None that I saw."

He peeled off his shirt and unlaced his boots. "I'm still testing you for exposure." Once he kicked off his boots, he reached for his pants buckle.

She stared. "We're stripping out here?"

"These clothes aren't going in the house. I told Stevens to do the same as soon as you're inside. He's standing around the corner." He nodded in the direction of the door.

When she stripped down to just undergarments and shivered in the night air, he took her elbow and led the way downstairs in just his boxers. As soon as she stepped into his room, he held out his hand. "Everything goes."

The exhaustion weighed so strong that it left no room for being shy or embarrassed. She handed over the undergarments and then darted into the bathroom. The hot water was beckoned the Sandman and every muscle grew heavy. Dragging her feet out of the shower, she dried off and stepped into the bedroom in a towel.

Without a word, he slipped into the bathroom. The water ran inside for several minutes, so she curled up on the bed to wait for him.

"Em." A soft voice beckoned and a warm hand rubbed her shoulder.

Blinking to clear the sleep away, she looked up at a silhouette outlined by golden light of a roaring fire.

"Sweetheart, just a quick blood-draw and then you can go back to sleep."

That deep baritone offered so much soothing comfort. She yawned and sat up. The sheet slid down to her waist. "Did you tuck me in bed? I tried to wait up for you." Rubbing her eyes didn't help clear away the sleepiness.

"You don't have to get up, sweetheart. I just didn't want to do it while you were sleeping and startle you." He tied the tourniquet around her left arm. "Pump a fist, love."

Flexing a fist, her eyes drifted shut. The muscles in her neck started to relax and her chin started to lower to her chest. It would be so cozy to curl up to him in bed. She leaned her head against his bare shoulder and the words slurred out. "Mmmm, you're so warm."

"Lie down before you fall forward and the needle goes where we don't want." A lighthearted note tinted his tone.

Sleep. Bliss. She let her weight drop back into the pillow.

"No! Em!"

Bang! Pain exploded as the back of her head cracked against the wood headboard. "Ow!" She hissed in a breath and grabbed the offending spot to rub it as he pulled her upright.

"Are you alright?" He released the tourniquet and then rubbed the back of her head. "Do you want ice? That sounded hard."

"No." She winced and rubbed it faster to dull the pain. His bandaged shoulder stared her in the face when she opened her eyes. "Your shoulder! I forgot. Did you - "

"I took care of it." His teeth glinted in the dimness of the room. "Let's get this done before you fall apart." He reapplied the tourniquet and then started drawing blood.

She searched his face that came into view better as her eyes adjusted to the poor light. He kept his left side to her. "You aren't wearing the mask." It'd been nearly a month since he'd had it off in her presence.

He kept his eye on the syringe. Then he withdrew the needle and held pressure with a gauze.

"You aren't talking much tonight. Does your shoulder hurt? I'm awake enough if you want to talk about tonight."

"No." He applied a band-aid and transferred the blood into a vial. "I've found that an assignment is better left on the field rather than brought home. Do you want to talk?"

"Not really. I expected it to be traumatizing, but I was so focused on you that I didn't really think about everything else going on. Maybe tomorrow it'll all bother me, but right now I'm alright." He still kept busy, as if to avoid conversation. "Does your shoulder hurt?"

"Goodnight, sweetheart." He took the vial and left the room.

Apparently he wasn't coming back tonight. Slipping on her robe, she padded down the hall to the light on in the mock hospital room.

He stood to the left at the counter and started up a machine for the blood work. It seemed like it should be odd to look at someone with warped, reddish flesh on one half of the scalp and thick, black hair on the other. But there was something beautiful about the nakedness of his scars - the intimacy and trust of them being unveiled. The man deserved warning to know she was there, even though she didn't want to break this moment. "Jay?"

His head immediately bowed and he shifted toward her a bit, thereby hiding the scars from sight.

"I wish you wouldn't hide from me." She stepped closer. Materials for another blood-draw laid on the counter next to her vial. "Do you want me to do yours? It can't be easy doing yourself."

"I can manage." His voice remained flat as he offered his profile.

"Of course you can manage. I asked if you _want_ me to do it."

With slow, hesitant movement, he shook his head. "You need to go to sleep." Sorrow softened his voice.

"Jason, if you want to talk - " Her words cut off when she took a step closer and he took two away.

"You need to go, Emma." Heartbreak filled those words.

She stared at his profile as he kept his head bowed toward the counter. Tears burned. Maybe he blamed her for something tonight, but in the bedroom he'd been so tender that it didn't make sense. Maybe something offensive had been said in the bedroom. "I'm sorry if I said something that hurt you or didn't seem supportive - "

"It's nothing you did or didn't do. I just need some time. I'll come to your room tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night? Shoving her hands in her pockets, she looked at him one last time with an aching heart for him as much as herself. "I love you, Jay. I hope you know you can tell me anything." Silence. So she turned to go.

His voice stopped her. "I don't want to scare you."

Turning in the doorway, she looked at his profile. "I don't think that anything about you would scare me. Are we talking about something that happened tonight?"

"I don't want you to go to bed thinking there's something wrong between us. With the mask and adrenaline, I got overheated tonight. I had a wet mask on for almost five hours. The smoke didn't help."

Oh god, the delicate tissue of his burns couldn't take extended heat or prolonged dampness. Her heart beat faster with dread. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I thought a cold shower would help, but it made it worse." He wasn't listening.

"Jason, do you need to go to the hospital?" The words came out slow and distinct as she walked over and set a hand on his arm.

His brow furrowed like he bordered on tears as he stared at the counter. "I don't know. This hasn't happened before."

"Let me see - "

He sidled away another step.

"Honey, we need to treat it so you don't need transplants again or get infections. I saw the unimaginable tonight. Inflamed skin isn't going to faze me, Jay." She took a step closer and set a hand on his shoulder, gently turning him.

Oh god. The redness at the back of his scalp hadn't been the scars - it'd been inflamed flesh. A sheen covered his entire face where the skin wept from breaking down. Several areas were bright red, as if a single layer of tissue was the only thing keeping it from bleeding. Thin, open lesions had already formed here and there. It ran down his neck to the bottom edge where the mask had covered.

He turned away with shame and tears in his eye.

She snapped her mouth shut. "No, it's not you. Honey, it's weeping and bleeding. This is too far and too large for us to try treating at home. We need to get you to someone who knows how to prevent this from getting worse and keep out infection." Turning off the machine, she took his arm and guided him to the bedroom to cover the scars for protection from infection and get dressed to go to the hospital.

But he dug in his heels in the hallway, his chest heaving and lip quivering. "No. They'll put me in the burn unit again. It'll be like before. Don't make me go. If we stay home, you can do as many dressing changes as you want and I'll take whatever meds and I won't make a peep." A tear rolled down his cheek.

Tears sprung. This strong, brave man was so terrified of going through the pain and anguish again that he begged. Her heart ripped and bled. Holding his hand tight and cupping the left side of his face, she held his eye and brushed away his tears. "It won't be like before. I'm going to stay at the hospital the whole time, and we will go home the moment they say it's safe to finish treating you at home." As if the past and the mission hadn't been enough to handle while overtired, now he had this. She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. "I promise I'll be right there the entire time, Jay."

He made not a sound as she wrapped the burns to keep out infection and helped him get dressed with his injured shoulder. But the poor thing looked frightened and seemed to pull into himself. Even in the car, he sat in the passenger seat tense and as terrified as a child on a first trip to the hospital. She held his hand in the car, his trembles evident. And guilt chewed the entire way that maybe she should try treating him at home.

In the ER, he barely said a word to the nurses and physician. But his grip never loosened.

"This definitely needs monitoring. We've paged your burn team to come in and evaluate you. I'll admit you to the burn unit..." The ER doctor continued, but all emotion fled Jason's face the moment 'burn unit' came out, as if he completely shut down.

The nurses came and went getting him set up in the burn unit upstairs, and he just sat in bed staring at the sheet, as if shutting out the entire world.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand after the nurse started the IV and left to get the antibiotic cream the surgeon and dermatologist both agreed over the phone to start him on until they came in the morning for rounds. "Jay, I can apply the cream. I wish to do whatever will help this not seem so terrible." Dear heaven, it hurt watching him suffer so horribly.

He blinked, and his eye slowly trailed from her hand up to her face, as if seeing her there for the first time. Grief and loneliness and fear and pain clouded his eye and his brow furrowed a bit. Then his gaze wandered back to his lap, but he held her hand so tight. "Don't leave," he whispered.

"I won't, my Jay." She kissed his hand and then scooted closer and kissed his cheek. "Should I be the one to put on the antibiotic cream?"

He simply pulled in his legs to cross pretzel style under the sheet, as if to curl up into a ball as tight as possible to protect himself. "Don't leave, Emma," he said again and held so tight that it almost hurt. He stared at the sheet.

"I'm staying with you, Jay." She held his hand tight and stroked his arm.

If Carolyn ever came around again, she'd kill the bitch. She'd absolutely kill her.


	34. Chapter 34

She woke up with a stiff back but cozy being tucked against Jason in the small hospital bed. The doctor had insisted that Jason couldn't fully recline the bed because of putting pressure on the fragile tissue and causing ulcers while sleeping. Grabbing the bedrail to sit up fully, she groaned.

"My apologies, I take up most of the bed."

Blinking in surprise, she looked at him over her shoulder. A sharp pain shot down her neck. She winced and grabbed it. A strong hand took over rubbing. "Ohhhh that's heaven. I'd tell you that I should be taking care of you, but if you quit, I think I'd cry."

"If you quit, _I'd_ cry." He spoke quiet and sincere. "Thank you for staying, Em."

She gave a stiff-necked glance over her shoulder as he moved down to her back. "You sound more like yourself this morning."

"Remember when I had the spinal tap and said sometimes I hit my stress threshold for the hospital?"

"I do." A deep sigh of contentment escaped as he worked out a knot.

"I think I hit it before getting here." Embarrassment crept into his voice. "I didn't mean to be difficult last night."

Turning around on the bed to face him, she set her hand over his. "You weren't difficult - " She blinked as his entire face came into view. "They put a bandage on during the night?" His right shoulder sported a massive bandage that looped over his shoulder and around his chest, covering the scar.

"During rounds this morning, actually." A soft smile tugged his lips. "My shoulder scar was beginning to ache and dry out, so the nurse put on a salve to keep it from getting worse. It took a bit of maneuvering to get the bandage on around you."

Blood drained from her face and her eyes widened. "You didn't. Oh, tell me you didn't let me sleep on you while everyone came in." Running her fingers through her hair, she snagged snarls. "Oh my god." She shot to the bathroom. Her t-shirt and sweatpants were mismatched and twisted in the hurry to get out of the house last night, and her hair rivaled a rat's nest. Not to mention no makeup and being up until nearly dawn. "Jason!" Grabbing her hair in a ponytail and holding it with her hand to keep it under some control, she marched out for her purse. "I can't believe you!"

He seemed to struggle with smothering a laugh. "You were so tired and it felt so good having you curled up on my chest. You looked so adorable, Em. They ran a blood-borne pathogen test on you too, and it came out clean like mine."

She pulled out a hairbrush and raised it at him with a warning look.

Holding up a finger, he cracked a smile. "Let me remind you that I'm here as a wounded veteran - "

"Ha!" She pointed the hairbrush at him. "You forfeited that excuse when you went all macho GI Joe letting them dig the bullet out in the truck like it was some war zone instead of going to a hospital with anesthetic."

He frowned. "The hospitals were overflowing. I saw no sense in taking a physician away from someone who really needed the medical care."

With a snort, she sat in the chair and started dragging the brush through the snarls. "You were trying to avoid this place and a lot of good it did."

His gaze dropped to his lap and he didn't have a sassy reply for that.

Feeling like a heel, she put the brush back in her purse and walked over. "I wasn't poking fun." When he just gave a half-hearted nod, the guilt welled. "Honey, what will make you feel better being here?"

A deep sigh heaved and he spoke in a subdued voice. "Maybe a kiss and pity sex."

Her jaw dropped and she thwacked his sound arm with a gasp of shocked laughter. "You faker!"

He grinned, although his face flinched like it hurt.

"And here I was actually thinking about how to sneak in ten minutes of pity sex tonight," she whispered with a glance at the door.

If a bullet had shot through his smile, it couldn't have died faster. His eye widened in desperation. "No, I really meant it. I'm so stressed I need pity sex."

Cocking an eyebrow, she smiled and walked back to her purse to pull out makeup. "Uh huh." When she turned to go to the bathroom, a devastated child in a toy store couldn't have looked more broken-hearted than him. She walked over and whispered in his ear. "Pity sex for five minutes right after they bring you lunch."

His eye brightened.

"And I'm due tomorrow, so we can have completely unplanned sex." She ran a hand up between his legs.

A soft moan of pleasure vibrated his chest as he sprang to life. His head fell back against the pillows and his eye rolled back. "God save me. If you haven't run screaming after seeing my face like it was last night, I give up. The hell with no sex yet." He pulled away her hand but didn't open his eye. "Careful, love. It won't take much with how long I've been needing you." Then he looked at her. "Not in the hospital, though. At home where I can romance you."

Her heart melted. After everything he'd just been through, he still thought of her. She sat on the bed and rubbed his arms, needing to feel his solid muscle because the IV in his hand, pulse oximeter on his finger, and cardiac wires coming out of the neck of his gown made him seem weak and vulnerable. "Let me do the protecting and coddling for a bit. You never let me take care of you." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, Emma."

After she put on makeup and tied back her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom. He looked right at her, as if he'd been watching the door...like he'd been nervous that she wouldn't come back. She returned the items to her purse and then sat on the edge of the bed. His hand immediately slipped into hers and the anxiety faded from his eye.

"I'm not leaving, Jay. I called Olin and got a couple days off to start, and I texted Mary that you're in the hospital and can only take dire emergencies. She said everything's been calm and for you to get well. Pete said Trudy is fretting herself crazy cleaning the house with nervous energy, and he's going to bring by my suitcase and anything you need. Everything is taken care of."

He nodded but didn't smile, as if he only half listened. Then he looked away, his eye squinted a bit.

She frowned. "Do you hurt?"

"My shoulder just aches, but the throbbing on my face and neck is starting to create a headache." Then he fell silent.

"I'll get the nurse - "

"That machine has self-dosing pain meds."

She looked at the machine pump attached to the IV pole and frowned. "Did you hit the button?"

He stared at the bed and gave a single shake of his head. Then he fell silent again, obviously on pain and drawing inward again.

This reaction had something to do with Carolyn, no doubt. "Does the med make you feel ill or anything?" Again, he shook his head. "I'll push it. Once or twice?" She got up and walked around the bed to the machine.

A nurse walked in. "Are you not feeling well?" The young girl walked straight over to the IV pump. "Hit this button if he's uncomfortable. It'll only shoot out more meds once between scheduled doses, so don't worry about overdosing him. If the pain gets bad, we can switch meds."

"What med is in there?"

The nurse hit the button and the machine made a noise as it released a dose. "The doctor wants to try extra strength acetaminophen first."

Jason remained silent and staring at the bed like he didn't hear a word being said.

"He was chattering a minute ago but grew silent from the pain. Maybe it's not strong enough." She set a hand in his arm to offer comfort while talking to the nurse. His throat convulsed in a hard swallow.

"Did you push the button at all during the night, Jason?" The nurse walked over to the computer near the door.

"No." He said it so quiet.

The nurse typed in his chart. "It automatically doses when he's due, but it's set up so he can take a little bit extra if he needs it." Then the nurse looked over her shoulder at him. "On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, what's your pain?"

"I'm fine." His voice came out flat.

Returning to the other side of the bed to see him better, she sat and took his hands. The poor man's brow furrowed in pain and his eye squinted. "Jay, we can't help you feel better if you don't talk to us. It's important that we know to monitor if an infection is setting in." But he already knew that. There was something more to this. "Tell the nurse, honey."

"It's getting worse the last few minutes. Emma?"

"What, Jay?"

"It feels wet." A spot of red bloomed on the bandage over his cheek. And another.

She blinked and looked around his head. Blood soaked the back of it.

The nurse hurried over with gloves and eased back the bandages. Large pieces of flesh adhered to the bandage, just as if the skin was sloughing off. His entire face was raw and trickling blood. "I need the team in here now!" the nurse yelled.

Oh. Dear. God. Instead of seeing spots, adrenaline kicked in. His body would go into shock if he lost too many fluids and blood. "Honey, lie down facing me." Her voice shook as she pushed the bed control button to lower it and helped him turn.

A physician and two nurses ran in. She stepped back as they whipped things out and the physician barked orders. Then they started rolling the bed out.

"Where - !" She stepped forward, hands shaking and tears welling just as a nurse grabbed her arms to stop her as they rolled him out the door.

"It's okay...he needs...sterile environment...they're taking him to OR..."

"What?!" Only fragments of what the nurse said made sense. Her eyes darted from the nurse to the door. He'd be scared and afraid she'd leave if she didn't promise him that she'd stay before they took him to surgery. She tried to push through to the door.

"Mrs. Port, look at me. Your husband needs you to understand this." The nurse kept a firm hold.

She looked at the woman and the tears fell. "If he has surgery - "

"He isn't having surgery. Calm down. He's alright. They took him to OR so he has a sterile environment to apply special dressings. Normally we would do skin transplants, but his body doesn't take to them well. Do you understand?"

With a sniffle, she nodded and her heart eased from trying to break through her chest to a frantic pounding. "Isn't he going to go into shock?"

"We've been pumping him full of fluids to keep his blood pressure up just in case this happened - the doctor said he had a lot of trouble with repeatedly losing fluids when he was healing after the fire. We haven't given him aspirin or anything that will thin his blood for just this reason. He's stable and we're keeping a close eye on him. It's a special burn mesh dressing they're putting on to stimulate healing and help control the bleeding and fluid loss. He'll be alright but will have to sit up or be on his left side for several days."

She blew out a deep breath that she'd apparently been holding. "I thought the nerves are dead. Why does he hurt so much?"

"The doctor can talk about everything more when he gets back, but the edges of the scars still have nerves. The skin is breaking down even on the edges for some reason, and that's why he feels the pain. We'll get him fixed up. You stay here and we'll bring him back in a few minutes." The nurse started to leave.

"Tell him I'm right here waiting. It's important he knows that." She bit her lip to hold back the new tears that welled.

The nurse offered a small smile. "I'll tell him twice. He's going to be okay." Then the woman left.

She dropped into the chair and sent up a prayer.

The bed rolled through the door what felt like a lifetime later and she shot up.

A thick bandage covered the burns and gauze wrapped around his head, part of his face, his chin, and his neck. It actually covered about the same amount as the ski mask but seemed a hundred times worse. Pillows propped behind him, keeping him on his left side. His hooded eye remained half open.

As soon as the bed was in place, she hurried over. He dragged his hand across the sheets and took her hand, his movements a bit clumsy and slow.

"I gave him some morphine because if he wasn't in severe pain, he would be after all the scrubbing I did to remove the dead tissue." The physician folded his arms over his chest and looked down at Jason. "Do you have any pain right now, Jason?" He spoke slow and distinct.

With a slow blink like the words had to filter through a long tunnel to reach him, he gave a slow, wobbly shake of his head.

"In about a half hour he should be more with it, but the pain control should last two or three hours. I'm not sure how much of the conversation he'll remember, but before I drugged him up, I explained the care plan to him. I know that the nurse, Stacey, filled you in a bit too.

"We learned a lot about how his body heals the last go-around after the fire. For some reason - we don't know why - he doesn't quite heal like a typical person. Transplants don't work well, and frankly, the poor guy has been skinned up in all the ideal places for taking donor skin. He has enough areas of bleeding with established vascularization that I think we can stimulate healing without transplants. We're going to try dressing healing and perhaps a hyperbaric chamber. The upside of this is I expect he'll have a faster recovery - last time we did transplants, some failed, some had to be redone, and we pretty much ended up taking this route for the most part once we established a tissue bed. The down side is he tends to have hypertrophic scarring. We don't have donor tissue this time - he's going to have one hundred percent, genuine scar tissue forming. The scars could be worse than last time. We'll do everything possible to minimize it, but his options are limited because of the way he heals. I told him that this is the ideal time if he wants to start down the road of plastic surgery. He said it was a question to put to you."

She held Jason's hand and searched his face. He looked at her but didn't seem to be able to follow the conversation. God, he would go through with it for her. She sat on the edge of the bed and cupped his sound, bandaged cheek. "Jay, I don't want you to have plastic surgery for my sake. Do you want it?" She spoke slow to let the words sink in.

That beautiful blue eye struggled to comprehend, but he finally slurred, "I don't want it."

Brushing a kiss over his lips, she gave a soft smile and then looked at the doctor.

He smiled and nodded. "Alright then. I won't lie, he's in for a rough road." Then he patted her on the shoulder. "I'm glad he has you this time. I'll be back in a couple hours to see how he's doing. The nurses will check in to make sure he's fine in the meantime."

"Thank you." She held out her hand, and he accepted with a smile. "I'm glad you're still here to take care of him, doctor."

He looked around, as if to make sure no one listened, and then said in a quiet voice, "He mentioned to me how this happened, and I saw it on the news last night to piece together what he didn't tell me. It's my privilege to get a hero back on his feet, Mrs. Port. A remarkable man."

She gazed at Jason. "I couldn't agree more."

When the doctor left, she stroked arm and held his hand tight. The poor thing looked so drugged.

He gave a weak tug on her hand. "Stay."

Climbing up in the bed to cuddle with him, she curled up against his chest. "I'm staying. I love you." She waited a moment for those words to sink in.

His right arm wrapped around, despite the gunshot wound. "Love you."

"Go to sleep, honey. I'll be right here."

His breathing slowed and his arm around her grew heavy. She joined him in sleep.

He slept right through lunch and the nurse coming in to check on him. The poor thing had to be exhausted from being up twenty-four hours because of the mission and then having this happen.

In the early afternoon, about two hours after the morphine, he started to stir. She set down her phone after calling Mom and Nana to tell them about his ordeal. Apparently Dad had told Mom about Jason's secret identity, and clever Nana had already figured it out for the most part. So she told them about her heroic husband and the price he now paid.

He felt the empty bed without opening his eye and mumbled something.

"What do you need?" She hurried over. The drug shouldn't be affecting him this much yet.

He didn't answer. His eye remained closed but his brow furrowed in pain. A tear leaked out from the corner of his eye. "Emma," he whispered and his fingers curled around the sheet that covered the empty side of the bed where she'd slept earlier. His heart rate picked up.

That broke her heart. She sat down on the bed and took his hand. "I'm right here. I didn't leave. I promise I won't go anywhere without telling you, honey."

That normally strong hand needed strength to hold. His fingers curled around hers and held tight, and his face crumpled with apparent relief.

"No, don't cry. You can't get your bandage wet, honey." She grabbed a tissue, climbed up on the bed, and laid down to dab at his eye.

He pulled her closer with more strength than he should possess. "It hurts less if I hold you." Still, he didn't open his eye.

"Jay, you can have more medicine if it hurts. Let me get the nurse." But he didn't seem inclined to let go.

"Morphine gives migraine. Just want to hold you," he whispered like it hurt his head to talk louder.

"Let me pull the drapes." She tried to get up but his arm locked tighter. "Jay."

"Don't go." It came out as a beg.

She swallowed hard. Whatever Carolyn had done and whatever had happened in the hospital when he'd been burned had traumatized him. The terrorist ordeal hadn't seemed to faze him but this hospitalization seemed to terrify him. "Sweetheart, I'm just going to go on the other side of the bed to close the curtains so the sun doesn't make your migraine worse."

"Just stay."

Tears burned that he was willing to hurt just to keep her close. "I'll just be up ten seconds, close the drapes, and hit the machine to give you more acetaminophen. I'll talk to you the whole time, Jay. I won't leave the room."

"Please, just stay here."

The machine was too far away to lean over him without risking falling on his wounds, so she laid down on her right side facing him. She stroked his chest, searching the bit of his eye that was visible between the bandages and the pillow. "What happened that makes you so scared I'm going to walk out?"

"I lied - it hurt so much last time and then she left...and then it hurt worse and there was no one, Emma." That blue eye, filled with more pain than a body should know, squinted open and looked straight at her. "This time I know what's coming and I'm scared. And I'm scared how much worse the scars will be; how much worse they'll make your nightmares. I'll have the plastic surgeries if you want. I'll do anything you want so I don't frighten you, so you won't see a monster. Just don't go, Emma. I can't do this without you."

Hot tears rolled from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow. "I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise that no matter what, you will trust me. I'm not going to leave and I don't think you look like a monster. And I promise that I'll be honest. We can do this, Jay." She sniffled and held his hand in hers against her chest, searching his eye. Swallowing hard, she held in the tears. "I want to help you any way you'll let me, but right now I need to not look during bandages changes. It's not because you scare me..." Her lip quivered and voice broke. "I know what happened with the fire, but it's more real actually seeing it. I didn't know it was possible to be skinned alive so much and survive." The sobs burst out, and it felt so reassuring, so safe for his strong arms to wrap around and pull her against his warm chest.

"I'm not going to die. I understand why you're scared. Be honest with me like this so I don't think it's me frightening you." He held tighter. "Don't cry."

The sobs subsided to hiccups a minute later. "Sorry, I know I'm supposed to be cheery and upbeat while you're in here - "

"No, we're supposed to get each other through this. Even though I'm in here, let me still be your protector at times - let me see that you still need me." His forefinger brushed away her tears.

"Of course I do."

His poor body grew damp from the pain and his eye closed again.

"Jason, let me hit the button." It was like climbing the walls seeing him suffer.

His arm loosened around her. After she got up and hit the button, keeping a hand on him so he wouldn't think she'd left, he lifted his arm for her to cuddle against his chest again. Even though the movement made him grimace and breathe hard.

She climbed in and tucked her head against his chest to keep from bumping the wounds. Wrapping an arm around his waist and draping a foot over his leg, she snuggled closer until he seemed content with her plastered against him. She pressed a kiss against his collarbone, just above the chest bandage. The next time she got up, she'd have to get some cream to put on his chest. "I don't think I'll ever suffer this much, even in childbirth. Bless your heart, Jay."


	35. Chapter 35

"Jason, you need it. You're going to exhaust yourself being in this much pain all the time. You are not killing your pain threshold - the nurse when you had the eye exteneration had no idea what she was talking about." She paced. It was bad enough seeing him in pain without him refusing anything more than acetaminophen that wasn't doing him any good anymore.

He just laid on his side, the bed inclined a bit, and panted with his eye closed.

The doctor walked in.

"Oh, thank God. Convince him to take something. An idiot nurse from his eye surgery convinced him that he is killing off his pain tolerance by taking pain pills after surgery and something like this." She rested a hand on her hip and held her forehead with the other in distress. "He's been like this for fifteen minutes. Pretty soon he's going to start overheating his wounds."

The physician took in Jason's vitals and watched his breathing for a moment. "There are other pain meds than morphine. We can try oxycodone if morphine gives you migraines - "

"No."

The physician pulled a syringe out of his pocket. "Why not?" When Jason didn't answer, he stepped over to the IV. "Jason, I need you to tell me why not. You cannot stress your body like this."

He turned his head slightly and looked at her with such sadness in that blue eye.

Pressing her lips together as he pulled her heart right out, she sat on the bed and took his hand. "Jay, please stop being so afraid I'm going to leave - "

"I'm not with it enough...to know you're here...if I have other drugs," he panted.

"The doctor said it's only a half hour or so, and then the worst of the grogginess wears off. I will sit right here and hold your hand." She glanced over him to where the doctor poised the needle to inject the IV line.

"You were the same way last time," the physician sighed. "I don't know if this is a SEAL thing to be afraid of losing control or a stubborn thing to not take better pain meds. You need this anyways because we need to change your bandage in four hours. We need the pain under control and your next dose due right before the change." The physician injected the line. "There. You'll feel better in a few minutes."

Jason stared at her with such hurt betrayal.

"Don't look at me like that. You desperately need this, and you know you wouldn't let me lie there and suffer." She climbed on the bed and reclined beside him, easing his injured arm to rest on her stomach. "I will be right here the entire time."

His eye started to unfocus and his breathing calmed. The poor man still looked upset, even though his body began to relax. Less than a minute later, he fell asleep.

"He's so clingy. He's not usually like this - I don't understand why. I mean, I know she walked out on him, but..." She looked at the physician studying Jason's vitals on the screen.

"I've seen a lot of burns in my twenty years of practice. I definitely saw far worse than his, but I don't know that I ever saw as painful or prolonged as his." He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at her. "I was on-call when he came in. With the crushed skull and burns and everything, I was certain he wouldn't make it through the night. He went into shock several times, and I'm amazed that his ribs didn't crack with how many times we had to do CPR in the first twenty-four hours."

She swallowed hard. Jason had never mentioned any of this.

"Every time we took him into surgery thinking we finally had a solution to get him to heal, he ended up in more pain than before. I actually can't believe that you got him to come back before his skin started deteriorating. It's incredibly traumatizing for most patients to be in this unit. He's holding up amazingly well, if you ask me. I can have a social worker come up and talk to him, if you think it'd help."

Searching Jason's face that was finally at peace, she shook her head. "I don't think he'd want to talk about it - he hasn't even told me some of this."

"He might never. I see a hint of it now and then that he's embarrassed to be so clingy. I know I certainly do not judge the man. That woman last time - " He bit his tongue, as if realizing he said too much.

She snorted and looked at him. "His ex fiancé. You can say it - she was a bitch."

His eyebrow cocked. "To put it nicely. I can't even believe the difference between how cold and disgusted she was and how you're right there climbing in bed with him and coaxing him through every minute of this." He shook his head. "It takes all kinds to make the world go around, I suppose." He heaved a sigh. "Anyways, I'd like to talk to you both about putting him in the hyperbaric chamber tomorrow. I believe he'll get excellent benefits, but there are some small risks. My advice is the benefits far outweigh the risks for his case. We can talk more about it I the morning.

"I gave him a small dose of muscle relaxant too - every now and then I see his eyebrow twitch like the forehead muscles are spasming from the trauma. What's left of his facial muscles are likely contorting too, he just can't feel it. We don't want those spasms to cause friction and irritation against the bandage. Are you planning on staying the night?"

Cracking a smile, she waved a hand over the bed. "I have a feeling I'll be sleeping right here. He hasn't eaten all day. I assume he's on a liquid diet so as not to disturb his face with chewing movement?"

"Oh. I thought the nurses had explained. I actually have him on electrolytes and fluids to keep him well hydrated, but I didn't want him to have any food yet until we get the pain under control. Many patients experience nausea, and the last thing we want is for him to vomit with the wounds being so close to his mouth. If he feels up to something, we can give him some juice and see how it stays down. By tomorrow he needs to be on a thick liquids diet - I want him on high protein to help with healing."

"Is it alright that he hasn't gone to the bathroom all day? Maybe he's losing more fluids than we think."

"He came in dehydrated from the mission and then lost more fluids with all the weeping from the wounds. I expect he'll catch up before dinner."

Sure enough, a half hour later Jason's legs shifted and he let go of her to tug at the sheets between his legs. "E, Emmmma," he slurred.

"Do you need the bathroom?"

His brow furrowed like he tried to understand her words. "Yeah." His eye didn't open as he drunkenly tried to push himself up with a great deal of effort and little success.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" She grabbed his arms to hold him in bed.

He swallowed hard and tried to form words. "Nooo catheterrr."

Her eyebrows rose and she sat up. "That's a big word for being doped up. I see your mind is with it but your body is a bit behind. I don't know that hospitals exactly have bedpans anymore, Jay." She slid out of bed and grabbed one of the nurses in the hall. "He needs the bathroom, but I think he's too groggy from pain meds to get out of bed. He says no catheter either."

The older woman led the way to his room. "You're in luck." She got out a urinal from the cabinet and pulled on gloves before walking over to him.

The man held the sheet to his waist in a white-knuckled grip as he leaned up on his elbow and blinked hard to try to focus his dilated eye. "Emmma doesss it." His words slurred a bit less than a moment ago.

She washed her hands and then walked over to take it from the nurse.

He sank back into the pillows but wouldn't let go of the sheet until the nurse left and shut the door.

"For heaven's sake, Jason. I'm sure she's seen more male parts than she can count and doesn't care one whit about seeing one more." She helped him get settled. "Goodness, you're about to burst for the sake of pride too."

"No woman gets to diddle me but you." He spoke a bit slow, but his words came out more distinct even though his eye remained closed. His face held no sign of pain.

Her shoulders shook with laughter. "Is that what this is called?"

"I'm so high on pain meds I wouldn't know the difference." He sighed in relief when he finished. "Thanks."

"Admit it - you feel better being pumped full of pain killers." She went in the bathroom and washed before coming back out.

"I admit it's pathetic that you helping me do that..." he paused as if letting his mind catch up, "got me hot." When she got in bed, he guided her hand down. "You promised sex." His poor body laid limp against the pillows, looking the most pain-free yet. His desire, if had even been there in the first place, faded already too.

A soft laugh escaped. "Jay, you're in no shape for sex, and I'm not even sure that you'd be aware of it. You certainly wouldn't remember it by tonight."

"Even demented and ninety, I promise I will remember..." his poor mind moved in such slow motion, "amazing pity sex in the hospital." He groaned the laziest groan in history. "Dammit. You gotta be faster, Em." It had taken him long enough to realize the desire had waned. "I can't work miracles when he gave me a sedative."

She laughed at his humor and withdrew her hand. "It wasn't a sedative."

"My ass it wasn't."

She laughed and kissed his nose. "Ah, Jay. You're a bit funny drugged up."

He snorted, still a deadweight with his eye closed. "I don't find it funny. I should stab him with sedative...and make him miss out on sex with a hot ass and see how he likes it." His brow slowly knit like he struggled to think. "Did I say that aloud?"

Trying to smother a smile at how he just blurted whatever came to his mind when drugged up, she said, "You did."

A frown pulled down the corner of his mouth. "Sorry." Then his forehead wrinkled. "Wait, what am I saying sorry for?"

"You were saying sorry for calling me a 'hot ass.'" She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter.

His frown deepened. "Did I? Well, that was rude."

She snorted as the laugh tried to force out.

"Bless you...wh...dammit, I forgot what I was going to say." He fell silent for a split second. "Cows hat are blue geronimo." Then his brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

She burst into hysterics. "What does that mean?"

"I dunno, it made sense when I said it." His unfocused eye squinted open. "You're pretty even blurry."

It would've been funny, but he seemed to honestly mean it. That made her heart melt.

"We should get married." His eye drifted shut again.

"We are married." She smiled. He was so positively adorable.

His brow furrowed. "Are we? Damn, I did good...I got a hot wife." A weak smile pulled at his lips. "Congrashul...congratulashions...tions...to me." Then his breathing deepened and he fell back asleep.

Goodness, he was so sweet. She smiled and kissed his shoulder.

* * *

He reclined against pillows and sipped on a box of apple juice for dinner, seeming to have no recollection of the earlier conversation. The child-size juice box practically disappeared in his hand and would've seemed so cute if his poor stomach hadn't growled again in hunger. "What time is it?"

"It's seven - five minutes since you last asked. Honey, the bandage change happens when it happens, and I'll be right here for it. The nurse will give you pain meds at seven-thirty and do the change at eight - "

"I know," he snapped.

She closed her mouth. It must be frightening to know severe pain is coming and even drugs probably won't be able to control it. At least with childbirth there was an epidural; he didn't have such luxury. "He said for you to walk around a bit because of bloodclot risk. Do you want to try that to help pass the time?"

"Emma, just shut - " He bit off the words.

Shut up. She closed her mouth and looked away. No one could blame him for being surly. He knew better than her what was coming. She got up from the edge of the bed and held out a hand for the empty box.

"I'm sorry." He handed over the box. "You don't know what the changes are like." Remorse colored his voice.

"No, I don't. I don't blame you for being tense either. I'm doing the best I can. My stomach is in knots watching you go through this and trying to figure out how to make this easier for you. I know you're scared and stressed beyond imagine." She dumped the box in the trash and turned, folding her arms over her chest. "I won't be your punching bag, though."

Guilt dulled his eye and insecurity moved across his face like he worried she'd leave. "I know. I'm sorry. You aren't obligated to stay here twenty-four, seven." His gaze dropped to her chest, like he tried to mask the fear.

Crossing the room to him, she sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tears shimmered in his eye. "Emma...I'm so scared."

"I know." She climbed on the bed and sat back, holding out her arms for him to recline against the pillows with her. When he laid his head on her chest and wept for all the pain that had yet to come, she didn't comment. Holding him tight, everything blurred and then cleared as her own tears fell. He'd done this completely alone once, and she prayed it hadn't been this terrifying because he hadn't known what was coming that time.

* * *

Her heart raced. She stood on his left as he sat up in bed and grimaced when the nurse and Doctor removed the shoulder bandage. Even with cream, his shoulder scar peeled like a bad sunburn.

"Put a thick layer on like this," the nurse said behind the surgical mask, teaching her how to care for the scars at home. The nurse used gauze and applied a thick layer of white cream. "It has some lidocaine in it too."

She and the doctor wore surgical masks too in order to keep any infection from setting in during the bandage change, mainly for Jason's face. A glance at Jason said the lidocaine started working almost instantly. His heart still raced across the monitor in anticipation of what would come, though.

After his shoulder was wrapped up and the bullet wound cleaned, the doctor and nurse started removing the outer wrapping on his head. She held his hand tighter as his grip intensified. The physician had given him heavy drugs again, but his adrenaline seemed to be burning through it. She diverted her eyes, more in order to not see the agony on his face so she wouldn't have a melt down than to avoid seeing the gore. She glanced. His head was unwrapped and thick bandages remained over the wounds.

"Lie down and we'll change the dressing," the physician said. "Alright. Ready? You know what's coming, unfortunately."

His free hand wrapped around the bedrail and he regripped her hand. "Yes." The depth of courage in that one word struck a chord in her heart.

"Here we go."

His hand tightened but not too much. His knuckles grew white in the hand that held the bedrail. Soft pants started.

Her heart beat faster hearing him in pain.

All of the sudden, his hand crushed hers and a soft cry of pain broke the silence. She countered the pressure and held his hand with both of hers, trying to offer comfort. Glancing at the monitor, she swallowed down the fear at seeing his heartrate climb over one hundred fifty.

Soft whimpers. His hand shook from the pain. He let go and grabbed the railing, as if needing a harder grip on something he couldn't crush. "Emma." His beg came out as a soft, shakey whisper.

She curled her hands over his on the bedrail and scooted as close as possible, tilting her head down to be eye level with him. His eye squeezed shut and tears leaked out of the corner of his eye onto the pillow.

"It's alright, they're almost done. It's almost over. You're doing so good, Jay." It was hard keeping the tears out of her voice.

"Focus on Emma, Jason. You've got a good, strong woman to hold onto to get through this." The doctor met her eyes for a second, his gaze warning that the worst had yet to come.

Her lip quivered as the doctor peeled back the final layer of mesh, pulling dead flesh with it. Jason panted and choked back a cry of pain. Less area bled than last night - more skin that the doctor had hoped would be the source of new growth had died. It looked worse than a horror movie scene. The doctor looked at the nurse for a split second, but it was enough to see his concern.

She leaned down closer to Jason and forced back the tears. He needed her to be strong as the doctor peeled away more mesh...and more skin. "Jason, can you look at me, sweetheart?" She stroked his arm and spoke soft and soothing like he once had to her during a panic attack.

His eye fluttered, trying to look but his face contorted in pain. He was listening and trying to focus on her - that was half the battle.

He needed something to look forward to, something that would bring him joy. "When we get home and you're back on your feet, pretty soon we can start working on that baby." His soft whimper of pain cut in. "Do you want a boy or girl, Jay?"

Sweat broke out on his brow and his chest heaved. He didn't answer. When she opened her mouth to try again, he spoke between pants. "Either...but with...your spirit." He let go of the bedrail and grabbed her hand tight.

Tears welled and she countered his grip, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. "And your blue eyes and big heart."

His entire body tensed in pain and then suddenly relaxed. His face smoothed, his grip loosened, and his hand holding the railing fell to the bed.

Her eyes widened and heart dropped. "Jason?" He didn't respond. A heart attack. A stroke -

"It's alright. He fainted." The physician looked at the vitals signs on the machine.

Her heart started beating again and she bowed her head against his hand still in hers. Thank god.

"He's so stubborn. I pumped him full of pain killers because he wouldn't take sedation for this." He and the nurse picked up the pace. "Fainting is the best thing for him - his blood pressure was beginning to climb higher than I like."

She still held his hand. "It seems like he's getting worse rather than healing." With a frown, she looked up at the doctor and brushed away her tears.

"It's still the first twenty-four hours." The man kept his eyes on his work. "I expect some tissue death to occur even into the next few days. I sent a culture to the lab to make sure the antibiotics are keeping out infection. The culture from this morning came back negative, but I'm not convinced this isn't a bacterial infection. His face should be reacting from the heat and damp clothes like his shoulder is - peeling. Bacteria normally live on the skin. If he was hot and sweating and then in those conditions for several hours, bacteria probably thrived. With his scars being such delicate tissue, it would be easy for bacteria that would just give you or I a rash to start breaking down his flesh."

"It's not MRSA or some flesh-eating disease, is it?" She swallowed hard to brace for the worst.

"I'm doubtful. He should be feeling ill with a bacterial infection, but he seems fine and doesn't have a fever, which is baffling."

She frowned. "Could it be an allergic reaction? He does have allergies to grass and molds and such. Could it be an extreme case of dermatitis if the housekeeper changed to a detergent he's allergic to?"

The physician pursed his lips. "I don't think so because his skin isn't breaking down from the outside-in, but it's worth a call to the housekeeper."

She grabbed her phone and stepped into the hall, pulling down the surgical mask. One ring. Two.

"Emma? Is he alright?"

It was so good to hear Trudy's familiar voice. "He's alright for now but the wounds are still getting worse. Did you change detergent or anything lately? We're hoping it's a severe allergic reaction that set it off." Crossing her fingers, she closed her eyes.

"No, I haven't changed a thing, don'tcha know. I don't even change the vacuum bag brand because one didn't filter better than a daisy and triggered his asthma attacks."

Her shoulders slumped. "Okay, thanks. I'll call you once we know more."

"Alright. I'm prayin' to Jesus every minute. Pete is bringing your suitcase. You let me know if you want me to come?"

"Thanks. He's in a lot of pain that they're still trying to figure out how to control it. I'll call you tonight or tomorrow."

"It'll be okay. Hang in there."

"Thanks. Bye."

Her cell rang as soon as she hung up. Nana. She peeked in his room - he was still unconscious. She hit the button. "Nana?" Her voice quivered.

"How's he doing, Emmie?"

Exhaustion slammed like a wave and she burst into tears. "He's in so much pain and more tissue is dying. They're changing the bandages right now and he fainted even though they loaded him with pain meds. Nana, what if he doesn't get better? Or what if it takes weeks for him to not be in this much pain?" She sank down to the floor against the wall. "I don't know how to help him."

"He will get better. You being there is medicine, Emmie. Now, you stand up and be strong like I know you are."

She blinked. "How did you know I was sitting?"

Click. Click.

A cane. She looked to the right. Nana hobbled down the hall with her cane next to Pete. Relief lifted a thousand pounds from her shoulders. Scrambling up, she raced down the hall.

Nana handed Pete the cell phone and held out her arm with a big smile.

She stopped short and leaned down with a ginger hug to Nana's frail frame, tears of relief flowing at having support show up.

Nana's arm tightened. "Don't let me fall, sonny."

Pete smiled and set his hand on Nana's back.

Both of Nana's arms wrapped around tight in a strong hug as the cane clattered to the floor. "You can hug better than that, Emmie."

She held tight and let the tears come. It felt so good and safe like Nana could fix him with her sheer stubborn will.

"That's a girl. Let it out." Nana patted her back and held on as the floodgates opened.

When the last of the tears shed, she straightened and wiped her eyes. "They're finishing the dressing change."

Gnarled fingers reached up and brushed away more tears that threatened. "No more crying. You pull yourself together and go back in there. He needs a rock, my girl. And when he falls asleep tonight, I'll be yours."

"You're staying tonight?"

"Your airman here says if it gets too late, he'll take me back to your house for the night."

When she looked up at Pete, he flushed. "You took it so hard the last time he was in the hospital that I thought you might need some support. Nana is an enthusiastic co-pilot in the helicopter."

She gave him a sound hug. "Thank you." Letting him go, she released a shaky breath and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Okay, I'll go see how they're doing and if he's awake yet. He might be out of it from the drugs, but I think he'd want to see you."

Scrubbing up again, she returned to his bedside where they finished bandaging. "No luck with the detergent."

The nurse looked at her, probably noticing the tearstains. "Are you doing okay?"

She nodded and stroked Jason's arm even though he remained unconscious. "My grandma and a friend are here. Is it alright if they come in when he's done?"

The physician smiled. "As long as they wash and don't get too close to him. He might sleep for a bit because of the pain meds, but I'm sure he'll be happy to have people to visit him this time. When he wakes up, are you up for helping the nurse give him a sponge bath?"

The nurse laughed. "From what I've heard, he probably won't let anyone but her do it."

After the doctor and nurse changed the medicine pump to a combination of drugs that would be more potent without the grogginess, they left. He stirred a minute later. "It's all done, Jay." She stroked his arm and held his hand from her chair pulled up against the bed yet.

His eye fluttered open, a bit groggy and tired but not as much as he should've been if the drugs hadn't been so desperately needed. He swallowed and his brow furrowed as his eye drifted shut. "What'sss done?"

"The bandage change, honey. Do you hurt?"

His mouth moved and he swallowed again like he was thirsty. The pain meds probably made his mouth dry even with all the IV fluids.

She grabbed her glass of water from the table and looked around for a straw.

"It'ssss fine." His words came out in a slow drawl.

Peeking into the hall, she looked at Pete. "Could you go down to the cafeteria and get some straws?"

Nana shuffled to turn toward the elevators. "Let's go, whippersnapper. My boy needs a drink."

Pete handed over the rolling suitcase and smiled as he turned to catch up to Nana.

When she rolled the luggage into the room, Jason frowned behind a half-hooded eye. "Where'sss that from?"

"Pete showed up a few minutes ago with this...and Nana." Setting it in the corner, she bit her lip and returned to him. "You don't have to visitors."

His eye closed and frown deepened a little more. "Visitors? Did they sssee me faint like a coward?"

With a frown, she sat in the chair and laid a hand over his. "Hey, you were not a coward. The doctor said he wanted to sedate you for the dressing change. You're not a coward and no, they haven't come in yet." Standing up, she leaned over the bedrail and kissed his nose, the only part of his face she could reach besides the upturned wounds. "Would my brave husband like a sponge bath later tonight?"

His eye cracked open. "You reward cowardnessss with a sssponge bath?"

She frowned. "Whatever drugs they gave you this time apparently don't make you feel as happy as the last ones. You are not a coward, and I'm not going to argue it with you. Now, do you want to see Pete and Nana? Or in a bit?"

That blue eye opened a bit more. "They came to sssee you."

"They did not. They came to see you, Jay. It's what people do when a loved one is in the hospital. They're worried about you."

He slowly shook his head a fraction. "No one comesss to sssee me."

She frowned. "Honey, I think you're confused with last time you were in the burn unit. That was before Pete or Nana or I knew you. Pete and Nana are here this time. To see you."

Tears welled in his eye. "Me?"

That utter disbelief tore a hole in her chest. No one should be so moved to have visitors when hospitalized. She nodded and smiled. "You, Jay."

His eye drifted shut. "In a few minutesss. It'sss hard to concentrate."

She texted Nana. When Jason suddenly started to sit up after seeming asleep for twenty minutes, she startled and jumped up to help him. "Cripes, I thought you were asleep."

"Waiting til I could think clearer." The poor thing looked exhausted and his head tilted to look when the sheet slid down his lap. "Why am I naked?"

"From the bandage change for your shoulder, honey. Remember? I'll get you a fresh gown." She dug one out of the cabinet and helped him slip it on.

"Oh. I thought we had sex and I couldn't remember it." A hint of relief touched his voice.

She laughed and leaned over the bed to tie the hospital gown at his back. "I promise that I will not take advantage of you being drugged up."

He snorted. "If they don't stop drugging me up, you'll never be able to take advantage of me."

She finished with the ties and then looked at him.

His eyebrow rose with a pointed look.

She frowned. "Huh?"

"Opiates have an adverse effect on men, Emma." He pulled the sheet higher.

She blinked. An adverse effect and couldn't take advantage of him..."Oh!" Then her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh."

"There's the light bulb." He cracked a smile and sat back against the pillow. Then he blinked hard, as if the movement made him dizzy.

Folding her arms over her chest, she raised her chin. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were - "

He snorted trying not to laugh.

Her face flamed and she dropped her arms, giving him a soft swat on his arm. "I did _not_ intend that as a pun!"

He burst out laughing. "Ow, ow. Don't make me smile." He cupped the right side of his face.

"No!" She grabbed his wrist and pulled it down so he wouldn't put any pressure on the little tissue that remained to stimulate regrowth. When he blinked in surprise, her heart stopped. He didn't know yet.

That blue eye searched her face and he became so serious. "It's getting worse." He looked at the IV pump and his lips pressed together. "The dosing is lower but there's significantly less pain." He stared at the machine. "What did they change it to?"

She swallowed hard and sat on the edge of the bed. "I gave permission to add in morphine. The doctor said that the two of them are powerful when combined but can be given at lower doses than alone. He said you shouldn't get migraines at this dose."

"There's a reason why I rejected certain drugs; it's not because I enjoy being in pain." His voice remained calm but firm and his eye shifted to her. "When I deny treatment, you do not go ahead and give permission for it."

She blinked. "Jason, you were in so much pain that you passed out. I didn't give permission for anything other than to make you comfortable."

His mouth pressed into a line. That blue eye sparked with displeasure. "For one, I get nauseous and lightheaded from the morphine, it's not just a migraine. For another, we want to have a baby soon. Morphine is known to affect fertility, and I'm not making a baby have life-long health problems because I couldn't suck it up and deal with pain for a few days. At least two months the drugs has adverse effects on semen." He held up a finger. "We are not having sex and ending up with an 'oops' baby with health problems from this. Three months is the soonest we're coming close to having sex."

She remained silent, mostly the guilt weighing down but also hurt that he was so angry. "I just wanted you to not hurt and didn't know I was doing something wrong. I don't know that you wouldn't have made the same call if I'd have been in as much pain." The words came out quiet and hurt.

"I know, I'm sorry." He heaved a sigh. "You didn't know and thought you were helping. Odds are that just a couple days of morphine won't have such long-term affects. I'm a pain-in-the-ass patient and I know I'm wearing you out." He held out his left arm. "Come here. I feel like hell and it's making me irritable. I didn't mean it, Emma." He pulled her in for a hug. "Just because I'm in here doesn't mean you can't bark back at me."

Laying her head on his good shoulder, she laced her fingers with his. "It wouldn't be very supportive to bark at you when you hurt."

He sighed and laid his good cheek atop her head. "I'll try to watch my temper better. You're being such an angel staying here, and I of all people should know to be more gracious."

Because he knew what it was like to go through this alone. "I hate her, Jason. I don't understand how she could just leave you, much less when you were on a respirator and they didn't know if you'd live..." Her voice broke.

"Shhh, sweetheart. You're not the type who could understand abandoning someone. And don't hate - you're too gentle for that. It's in the past and you're here this time." He stroked her back. "I think we both need a distraction from the stress. Let's visit with Stevens and Nana before the meds wear off." That probably would be just an hour or less. He helped her slide off the bed. When she reached the doorway, he stopped her from the bed. "Em?"

She turned.

"I love you. Today is kind of foggy, and I don't think I said it today. If I did, you should hear it again."

A soft smile bloomed. All the exhaustion, worry, tears, and stress didn't matter anymore. "I love you too, Jay."

When she brought them in after making them wash their hands before touching Jason, a genuine smile lit up Jason's eye even though he couldn't smile too big because of the tender wounds.

"Stevens." He extended his left hand without the IV and injured shoulder for a handshake.

Pete smiled and shook it. "Good to see you, sir." Then he stepped aside and slipped her the straws.

"Where's my boy? Outta the way, sonny, I gotta make sure my JJ is alright." Nana tapped her cane against Pete's legs to get him to scoot over more.

Jason smiled. "Nana. You didn't need to come out." He held a hand out over the railing being he couldn't lean over it without getting dizzy and Nana wasn't tall enough to reach above for a hug.

Nana took his hand and hooked her cane over the bedrail. Reaching a gnarled hand out, she laid her palm against his left cheek. "Oh, JJ, they wrapped you like a mummy." Her voice held so much sadness. "Emmie! Get this bedrail down." Nana whacked it with her cane.

"Nana!" She darted forward and grabbed Nana's cane before the woman hurt someone. "For heaven's sake, Nana." Pushing the latches, she lowered the bedrail.

"Don't 'heaven's sake' me, missy. I need to see my grandson properly."

Jason looked tickled that Nana wanted to see him so badly and at being called a grandson. When Nana stepped closer and reached out her arm for a hug, he leaned his left hand on the bed and gingerly reached with his right arm for a hug.

She sat on the bed with an arm around Jason's waist in case he got dizzy so he wouldn't tumble off the bed. Pete stood behind Nana just in case. When Nana let go, Pete pulled up a chair and helped Nana sit. She helped Jason prop up in bed and then got him a glass of water.

"Thank you, Emma."

Nana looked around the hospital room. "So this is how they treat a hero? Bet they aren't footin' the bill, the cheap bastards."

Jason and Pete stared and then Jason's eye sidled to her. She shrugged. "Dad told Mom about you and Nana pieced it together with knowing you were a SEAL and then you're in the hospital the day after the terrorist attack."

"No, Uncle Sam isn't footing the bill," Jason said and took a drink.

"Emmie said you got shot in the shoulder. Women like scars. You use that to get my Emmie knocked up."

Jason choked on the water. Pete gawked. She stared in mortification. Jason was the first to recover. "We'll work on a family soon; when we're ready, Nana."

"Not too long. You'll be thirty five this fall, JJ, and Emmie just turned thirty one. I'm coming up on ninety. None of us are gettin' any younger."

She rolled her eyes. "We know, Nana. And I find it amazing that you've been coming up on ninety for several years now. You're going to be eighty three."

"Damn near ninety. At my age, you blink and next thing you know you're six feet under. Well, you probably don't know being dead and all."

Nana's back ached sitting down, so she walked the hall with Nana for a few minutes, leaving Pete with Jason. When she returned, Jason glanced at her with a very solemn look and then turned his attention back to Pete. Maybe he was getting tired or starting to hurt. "Nana, I think Jason is wearing out."

"Of course he is. He just fought a world war last night and had a bunch of his skin pulled off today." Nana laid a hand on her arm. "Do you need me to stay after you get him to sleep?" Her voice filled with all seriousness now.

She smiled. "I think I'm better now. Thank you, Nana."

"Your mother wanted to come, but she hasn't been in a hospital since your father. I told her that you have to be here with your JJ, so she can..." Tears shimmered in Nana's eye, but the woman put on a brave face. "Anyways, your mama sends her love."

Staring down at the ground, she swallowed hard. "Nana? I wish Mom knew how to be braver like you. I shouldn't say such things, but..." Tears welled and she looked at Nana's cloudy, gentle eyes. "Like right now, I wish I had my mama here to give me a hug and say he's gonna be okay."

The tears pooled in Nana's eyes. "Emmie, my girl." Nana pulled her down for a hug. "He _will_ be okay. And you will be okay. Your mama is brave in her own way." Nana let go and cupped her cheek. "You got all the courage in the family, and it's hard for some of us to keep up. You are so much stronger than you realize, and I can't wait for the day you see it too. I'm proud of you, Emmie. I know your mama and your father are too."

She stood in the doorway and watched Nana and Pete leave, the weight of the stress and fear weighing down on her shoulders again. When Nana and Pete gave a final wave and disappeared around the corner, she wrapped her arms around her middle and took a deep breath, trying to summon that courage Nana swore was there. Then she turned.

Jason reclined in the bed and watched her with worry. "I heard you talking to Nana, sweetheart. I'm sorry your mother didn't come. But Nana's right - you're stronger than you know." His voice grew thick. "I'm so damn proud of you because I know how scared you are and that being here brings back memories of losing your father, but you haven't left." When his voice broke, tears welled in her eyes. "I will never be able to tell you how much it means to me that you've stayed this long. But I can't let you stay tonight."

Her lip quivered. "You'll be scared I won't come back."

He shook his head. "I can't ask you to keep up this stress and keep sacrificing. You're going to fall ill or eventually resent me. You need to go home, Emma."

Walking over to the bed, she set her hand over his and held his eye. "I am home."

A strong embrace held tight as she curled up on his chest in the silence. "Emma...I need one of those honest talks that we said we could have in the hospital."

She frowned. "Of course."

"I'm so frustrated with myself." He held her hand on his chest. "It felt like I was so close to getting you back and then this happened. I can't even fathom what 'worse' scarring will look like, and nothing would break my heart more than you being afraid of me. Your difficulty in looking at the scars as they were was hard, but I understand why and do not fault you for feeling the same way I did."

He drew a deep breath. "I want to be your strong safe haven that you feel like you don't have right now. It's humiliating to be so nervous and clingy to you, but I don't know how I'd do this without you. It was really hard adjusting to not being able to do some things anymore because of...because of having disabilities. I worry sometimes if you feel that I'm a bit of a compromise from what you wanted."

A deep frown made her forehead ache. "Whatever do you mean? You're more than I wanted - "

He fidgeted with her fingers. "Physically. I worry if you feel less protected than you would if I had two eyes and a sound body. Or that for some reason you can't lean on me. I started thinking about you bringing the guns last night. Do you feel like you need to protect me? That I wouldn't be able to protect you?" The heartbreak in his voice created an ache deep inside and when she didn't answer, he added, "Pete told me what you said last night, Emma."

Her stomach dropped and she closed her eyes. The comment about him going into battle half blind and half deaf and then him overhearing the conversation with Nana tonight...taken out of context, it did sound degrading. She sat up and looked at him. "Jason, I didn't mean it like that - "

He sat up and dropped his gaze. "I'm not asking for you to have to explain. Fact is fact - I am half blind and half deaf. I'm just asking to know if I make you feel safe because lately, it seems like I'm failing immensely in that area." He swallowed hard. "And you being here to see me cower at everything can't be helping." Such immense shame emanated from him.

Tears burned at having made him feel so emasculated, so humiliated. "Remember when you rescued me from Gaston? And at the courthouse? What about when I was at the bar with Andy and you magically appeared and rescued me from those bikers? Or last night when that terrorist almost shot me?" She bowed her head to catch his eye. "Having nightmares and going to therapy is not a reflection on if I do or don't think you can protect me. That says something when I sleep next to you and the nightmares decrease or disappear. If you had two eyes and two working ears, I would've found another excuse to bring the guns last night. Jason, I've never looked at you and seen less of a man. And I won't."

"You don't know that. It wasn't until later that I lost my lip and more of my eye. We don't know how this will turn out. For all we know, it's some kind of flesh-eating bacteria and it'll spread and I'll need amputations - "

"And tomorrow I could stroke and be mentally and physically disabled. Would you love me less?"

"Of course not - "

"We could live our entire lives in a world of what-ifs, Jason. Carolyn taught you what conditional love is; I will teach you what unconditional love is." She leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his lips that peeked through the bandage. They needed a break from all the heavy. "If you'll let me, I want to give you a sponge bath, my Jay." Her face burned and she whispered, "It's not because I want to take care of you."

The pain that had started to creep back fled his eye for a moment, but he seemed unsure if he believed what he heard.

Leaning in to his ear with the hearing device, she whispered, "There's something sexy about taking care of my man by giving him a sponge bath in the hospital." Then she pulled back and bit her lip.

He swallowed hard and practically melted. "Emma, that's so hot that you want me even in my sorry state."

She smiled and brushed a kiss over his lips again. "Let me find out from the nurse where everything is."

"Hurry, Em. I want to enjoy this before the drugs wear off."

A male nurse on duty for the night pulled out a rubber sheet from the cabinet in Jason's room. "This will keep the linens from getting wet. Let's get you settled." He pulled down the sheets, leaving just Jason in the hospital gown. Even though Jason tried to maintain modesty, it wasn't easy while moving in his lightheaded state.

"Thank the Lord for a male nurse. The only woman I want seeing the family jewels is my wife."

The man laughed as he unrolled the sheet. "Everyone says nurging is a sissy job, but I have yet to have a guy tell me that when he's the one in the hospital. How's the migraine?"

"Not there, but the room keeps spinning."

"I guess a trip to the bathroom is out of the question."

"If you want to carry me, I'm all for it. My poor wife had to help me use a bedpan earlier." Jason held her hand tight for leverage as he sat up so the nurse could finish spreading the sheet.

"You aren't having trouble using the urinal or anything? We can do a catheter if - "

Jason's pointed look cut off the nurse's words. "I'd better be brain-dead or dead before anyone comes at me with that." Then he looked at her. "Remember that."

She laughed. "Yes, sir. Somehow I think you probably had a catheter when you were sedated after the fire. And for surgeries."

He gave her a pointed look. The pain began creeping back in his eye. "If I wasn't conscious for it, it didn't happen."

Holding back a smile, she cleared her throat. "Alright. I'll leave you two to your non-catheter and grab a towel."

Jason threw her a look, his eye already progressing to a mild squint of discomfort.

She leaned over and hit the button on the machine and then darted for the bathroom.

"What? Oh, come on!"

"You're starting to hurt. If we don't keep on top of it, you'll have another sleepless night." She popped into the bathroom and grabbed a towel. "Lightheadedness is a small price to pay." It was good seeing him acting more like himself and practically pain free.

Once the nurse left, she shut the door and then set a bowl of steaming water on the bed tray to her left. The nurse had him nicely propped on his side, removed the EKG wires and chest bandage - with the exception of the bullet bandage - and had inclined the bed enough so it'd be a relaxing bath. She dipped the rag in the water and wrung it out.

His pupil had dilated a bit from the fresh dose of drugs, but he watched intently.

Her cheeks burned. "Don't look at me like that. You make me feel like I'm seeing a naked man for the first time." She walked around the bed and untied the gown at his back being he reclined on his left side.

"You make me feel like I'm about to have amazing sex." A grin spread across his face.

The flush grew. "Hush." She eased the gown off his good shoulder and then maneuvered it around the bullet wound and the burn bandages. "Apparently the opiates aren't having an adverse effect yet." Goodness, he didn't appear to be a convalescing man. The temperature shot to a hundred degrees.

"I'm a lucky fellow." His voice took on a husky quality.

A shiver ran up her spine and each moment brought more shyness. Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach. "Does your bullet wound hurt?" Talking about an injury would surely smother the desire. She started near the bullet bandage to be sure it wouldn't get wet.

"Not with all the drugs. It'll leave a noticeable scar."

She frowned and looked at him. One more scar. "I'm sorry."

A soft smile touched his lips. "I'm not. I've heard women find bullet scars sexy. I suspect my wife will have an urge to kiss it whenever I make love to her." The smooth purr of his voice made her heart skip a beat. His blue eye, although a bit unfocused, looked straight to her soul.

She cleared her throat and looked away, her heart thundering. That plan crashed and burned for talking about a wound. "You're in no condition to be thinking of such things." But that scold didn't come out as strong as intended.

"You took away the pain - the leaves me in ample condition to think of such things." He lifted his arm, even though he winced for a moment at the effort, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You grow more beautiful every day, Emma."

She should laugh and attribute it to his drugged state, but he said it with such heartfelt sincerity that her heart melted in a puddle at his feet. Biting her lip, she swallowed hard. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch. It felt so wonderful to be touched by his strength - the strength of a man who would heal, a man who believed she wouldn't love him any less no matter what tomorrow would bring. This was her strong, confident Jason. It struck just how frightening it was to witness him fall apart. He'd fall apart again in the morning for another terrible bandage change, but each day he'd get stronger and the man Carolyn had created would eventually vanish.

"Lock the door, sweetheart."

Her eyes opened. "Jason, we shouldn't. The staff have a key and they might come in." Oh god, she wanted him, needed to touch this man who was her familiar Jay that chased away the monsters and fears.

"We won't." His fingers stroked her cheek. "Just let me lie with you."

"We should finish your bath," she whispered, falling into his gaze.

A soft sigh and he withdrew his hand. "Finish and then you wash and then no excuses."

Helping him sit forward, she glided the rag over his back. Guilty pleasure awoke as the rag traced over the heavy muscling. "Jay, you're so beautiful." She whispered the words in his ear from behind. He seemed uncertain what to say or whether to believe it. Taking her time, she dried his back. "Lie down, honey."

He lair on his back and turned his head toward her to keep pressure off the wounds. The dear man still looked a bit uncertain.

"I meant it, Jay."

His brow furrowed. "I don't understand how you've seen my face in such disgusting condition but still want me. You used to hesitate after seeing it."

"Perhaps, after almost losing you, I learned how stupid it is to let imaginary fears steal time from us." Then she brushed a kiss over his lips, leaving him to mull it over. She ran the rag across his torso and then used a towel to dry him before moving to his arms. Heavens, he had gorgous muscling and such long, elegant fingers. She glanced at him.

His eye was closed and his body seemed to melt. "Mmm. This is so relaxing, Emma," he breathed.

"Maybe we need to do this more than at night." She smiled as he seemed to turn into a puddle.

When she glided the rag between his legs, his lips parted and he drew long, slow breaths.

"Jay, may I touch?"

"I'm yours - you don't have to ask." He breathed the words and still didn't open his eye.

Such a beautiful reference to their wedding vows. He surrendered his body without hesitation, a far cry than where they'd been just weeks ago. She set aside the rag and her damp fingers stroked the delicate flesh.

He drew a deep breath.

Stroking in a way to give him relaxed pleasure, she moved on to massage his large thighs and hips.

"You don't have to." His words danced out slow and lazy but he didn't otherwise move.

"I want to." As she massaged his entire front side in slow, sweeping strokes, his breathing deepened until finally he fell sleep.

Standing back and looking at his whole body so relaxed and at peace, she smiled. He was the most beautiful creature in every way imaginable to ever walk the earth. And he was hers to love and to hold.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! Have been busy so have been slacking on individual thanks, but I have read each review.**

 **Listened to Sara Bareilles's Breathe Again while writing this first scene...again, mostly for the melody/emotion more than the words.**

* * *

"I'm glad you convinced him to try this." The physician stood near the young technician running the hyperbaric chamber. "Most bacteria have trouble thriving in such high oxygen concentrations, so it should help with the fever that started this morning."

She glanced at Jason lying on a bed inside the clear cylindrical chamber to her right. Instead of the doctor applying new bandages after the dressing change this morning, he'd left them off so the oxygen would saturate from the outside, as well as from inside as Jason breathed in. Keeping her arms wrapped tight around herself, she nibbled a fingernail and stared straight through Jason. Worry and stress chewed her stomach.

"It's a minor fever that could just be his body reacting to the trauma." The doctor set a hand on her back. "The antibiotics we switched him to are broad spectrum and strong. If anything is taking hold, we're going to knock it out."

But Jason's cheek still burned pink from the one-hundred-one-degree fever that had come on at sunrise.

"Studies have shown that oxygen saturation from the chamber will help capillaries form, thereby increasing blood flow to the tissue for cellular generation. The down side, as I told him, is it also stimulates collagen formation, which could create worse scarring. At this point, though, our main concern is getting skin to regrow. He's at a pressure of forty-feet below sea level and at one hundred percent oxygen concentration - the air in the atmosphere generally contains twenty percent oxygen."

Jason, himself, finally registered as she stopped staring. Instead of watching the TV for the ninety-minute treatment session that had just started a few minutes ago, his eye remained on her. When she offered him a forced smile, he remained solemn and concerned. A blue shadow had taken up residence under his eye, making him look more ill too.

She turned to the doctor, needing to pretend the hospital pallor and exhaustion in Jason weren't there. "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to convince him to come daily for three months."

"Even daily while in the hospital and a couple times a week after will help."

She glanced. Jason only offered his profile and his brow wrinkled. The physician had pumped him full of pain killer again before the bandage change, but it shouldn't be wearing off yet. Squatted to be more eye level, she laid a hand against the glass. _Do you hurt?_ She mouthed the words for privacy rather than use the intercom.

He pressed his hand against the glass on the other side, lining up his palm with hers, and gave a slight shake of his head. Sadness filled his eye. _Miss you_ , he mouthed.

Tears pricked and she laid a hand over her heart to keep from crying. _I'm staying right here._ With his hearing loss, maybe he would be able to lip read well enough to talk. He still had awhile to go in the chamber. _Can you tell what I'm saying?_

He gave a slight nod.

 _This is going to be a one-sided conversation because I can't lip read at all._ She smiled.

That won a smile from him - the best that he could without causing his face pain.

"Would you like a chair? You look like you're going to be there for awhile." The doctor's voice cut in.

Looking over her shoulder, she stood. "Sure."

"I'm going to check on a few patients. The technician will be here if there are any problems." He pushed a desk chair over. "I'll be back when he's coming out." Then he headed to the door.

"Thank you." She sat down. Looking at Jason, she scooted the chair a fraction closer with a smile. _He said he'll be back when you're coming out._ Then she looked around for a clock to see how much longer he had.

The physician stood with one hand on the door but his eyes on her, with a smile. "I'm always amazed at how much faster patients go home who have support versus the ones who don't."

"How long do you think he needs to stay?"

"If everything continues to improve, perhaps three weeks. I'll be back." Then he left.

Her heart dropped and she stared at the door. With Jason's eye ordeal, he'd been in the hospital for almost a week. He wouldn't do well staying nearly four times longer.

Tap. Tap.

Turning her head, she looked at Jason.

He lowered his hand from tapping on the glass. _What's wrong?_ A wrinkle formed in his forehead.

It'd be better if he got through a few more days before he learned of the timeline. She shook her head and smiled, lowering the chair to be low to the ground. Setting her hand against the glass again, she mouthed, _Do you want to play cards when we get back to your room?_

He raised his hand to the glass again but drew a line across her ring finger with a frown. Then he pointed to his own naked ring finger where he'd had to remove his wedding ring before going in the chamber.

 _I had to take off all of my jewelry too. The tech said no jewelry or anything with batteries in the room just in case._ Just like how Jason had to remove his hearing device and put on a special cotton gown before going in the chamber. Any kind of spark would cause the pure oxygen to explode. _Are you feeling okay? He said you might get lightheaded getting so much oxygen._

That beautiful blue eye seemed perpetually dilated from the drugs lately, but his movements seemed more in control since the doctor had changed to a lower dose drug combination. Jason cracked a smile and cocked an eyebrow.

Relief swept through at seeing him feel well enough to joke a bit. She cracked a smile. _Alright, stupid question for a SEAL._

A one-shouldered shrug was his answer and he winked. When he smiled a genuine smile, he looked like his usual, healthy self.

Her smile grew and she laughed, hope gleaming for the first time today. If he felt well enough to joke, he would get better. He had to.

Such a tender gaze overcame his eye, making her heart beat faster. If the glass hadn't been in the way, he surely would've overcome any dizziness to stand up from that bed to steal a kiss. Instead, he laid his hand on the glass against hers. Then his lips moved slow and distinct for her to follow. _You look so happy and beautiful when you laugh from your heart like that._

An intense ache swept over with the need to touch his hand, to be in his arms. Her heart wrenched and the smile faded. Not caring about the germs or dirt, she knelt on the floor to be closer to him. It suddenly seemed so unbearable to have this divider. _I love you._

 _I_ _love you too -_

The door to the waiting room opened. She looked over her shoulder.

A tech poked her head in. "Mrs. Port?"

"Yes?"

"Will you come with me for a moment?"

She frowned. "Can it wait until my husband - "

"I'm afraid not, ma'm. The security officer needs to speak with you."

She got up and glanced at Jason, his eye searching her face in concern. _A security officer needs to talk to me._

His brow snapped together, and he paid for it with a wince of pain. He started to sit up but she held a hand out for him to stay as she got up.

Outside the door, a security officer stood with the tech, both of their faces solemn. "Mrs. Port, I need a description of the items you left with the technician." The officer pulled out a notepad.

She blinked and looked at the tech with whom she'd left her wedding and engagement rings.

The woman swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry. I set them on the desk behind the counter in a small bag. I was labeling it to put in our lockbox but the marker ran out. I turned around to get a new one out of a cabinet right there. When I turned back, they were gone."

Shaking her head, the tears welled. "No, they just fell behind the desk or something." If Jason didn't make it through this, the rings he'd given when he promised forever, the engagement ring he'd designed himself...they'd be all that was left of him. "Oh god, the ring from Scotland was in there too." She held a hand over her mouth as the tears fell. She turned to the officer. "Please, you have to find them. If he doesn't get better..."

"We'll search anyone leaving the hospital. What do your rings look like?" He remained calm and ready to take notes.

When the officer left a few minutes later, she shuffled back inside with a broken heart and barely holding back the tears. Jason would take it hard if she cried. She swallowed harder. The officer would track down the rings before Jason came out and he wouldn't have to be any wiser.

He sat up the minute he saw her. "Emma, what's wrong?" His voice came over the intercom anxious and worried.

In his concern, he turned to look at her straight on. The bloody, raw gore of wounds that refused to heal added to the fear of never getting the rings back. Of not getting him back.

Sinking to her knees, she laid a hand on the glass and the sobs burst out. "Someone stole my rings."

He set a hand on the glass, as if to touch her, and looked at the tech. "Turn it off."

"No." She looked at the uncertain tech. Jason needed to be in there for another hour if he had any chance of getting better.

"Emma," he begged.

She turned to him and shook her head as more tears fell.

Distress carved in every line of his face, as if it ripped out his heart to not be able to hold her. "Don't cry. I'll have identical ones made, sweetheart. I'll find you another Scottish stone ring too. Prettier. One we can add birthstones to for each baby."

The right side of his face glistened from the destroyed flesh still refusing to quit weeping. The whiteness of the most bottom layers of tissue - unable to bleed because the skin bed had deteriorated so far - spread with each bandage change. Only a couple drops of blood stained the gown near his neck. The physician said only layers remained between the air and bone, increasing the risk of infection. If things didn't turn around fast, there wouldn't be babies. There wouldn't be time to find another ring. There wouldn't be replacement rings to have as a piece of him. As if on cue, not blessed blood but a drop of fluid from skin too far lost dripped onto the neck of his gown. Her face crumpled and the words came out as a devastated whisper. "I want the ones you gave me. I need pieces of you."

Tears shimmered in his eye and thickened his voice. "Emma, I'm going to get better. It'll be alright. Please, don't cry."

The doctor seemed to begin worrying about the unspeakable - it showed during the bandage change again this morning when he'd seen the wounds and then had glanced at the nurse in concern as he'd switched out antibiotics for a stronger one. They didn't even know what was wrong with Jason. Jason couldn't go. He hadn't had a chance to enjoy marriage yet, to have a little daughter he'd be a hero to because he'd kiss her scraped knee, to become a grandfather... Laying her other hand on the glass too, the tears coursed down as nothing mattered more right at this moment than to touch him. To feel his strength and believe he was invincible.

Tears welled in his eye. "Emma, don't cry. It'll be alright. We'll find your wedding rings. If not, I'll take you on a romantic date or do something special when I give you new ones. We can go to church in a week or so and renew our vows when I give you your wedding band, sweetheart. Don't cry."

But it would be at least three weeks before he might walk out of the hospital - this was just the beginning of his long battle that he might not win this time. She bowed her head and leaned her forehead against the backs of her hands. And her shoulders shook as she wept.

* * *

The fever grew more prominent in his cheek and he grew quieter throughout the day as the fever climbed. She sat beside the bed and held his hand as his energy drained and he fell asleep a few minutes at a time several times an hour.

In the late afternoon, he woke up from another cat nap. He pushed himself up and held the bedrail for a moment, blinking hard.

She set down her cell phone quick, trying to hide the concern at the online findings about his symptoms. "Jay, you should stay in bed." Standing up, she set her hands on his shoulders.

He grabbed a tissue from the table tray. A wet, harsh cough wracked his poor body.

The blood drained to her toes. He was getting pneumonia.

When he quieted, he laid down on his stomach, breathless and pale. Then he stuffed a pillow under his hips, keeping the bandaged side of his face up. "Beat on my back."

Stepping up to the bed with a racing heart, she looked at his gowned back. Uncertainty made her heart race.

"Cup your hands. Two pounds a second...to break up the fluid." His words came out breathless and weak.

She set her cupped hands on his back. Taking a deep breath, she started the rapid rhythm.

"Harder."

Biting her lip in hesitation, she hit him harder. He walked her through the steps of beating on his sides and chest too. It seemed to help, if him coughing up so much was a good thing.

* * *

She woke up during the night, cold from not being in contact with his hot body and having thrown the sheets off earlier. Rolling onto her back, she yawned and looked up. He sat hunched over the table tray with a pen, the glow of his phone as his light source. "Jay? What are you doing?"

"Sketching your ring design."

Sitting up, she looked at him.

Fierce concentration overrode the pain on his face. He also wore an oxygen cannula that wove under his nose and over his ear. The other side was taped to the mask where an ear should have been.

Her heart pounded. A glance at the machine showed that even with the oxygen, his saturation only reached ninety seven percent. His heartrate was up either from the strain of trying to breathe or pain. "Do you hurt - "

"Don't." The tone left no room for argument, and his eye remained on the drawing. "I can't see well enough to sketch with the drugs." He seemed so determined. So he was foregoing the extra bolus of pain med he needed in exchange for being more coherent.

The phone said it approached three o'clock in the morning. "Did the doctor put you on oxygen?"

A slight sheen covered his brow when he glanced at her. Then his eye returned to the paper and the pen continued flowing. His voice flowed quiet and a bit breathless. "The fever is climbing. If it keeps climbing, he wants to sedate...or some bullshit excuse that it'll give me time...to 'rest.' I'm getting these done tonight." So much conversation led to a violent coughing fit.

WHen it passed, she took his arm to ease him down to sleep. "Jason - "

But he just shook her off. Sheer determination pushed him. A sickening chill ran down her spine. It was like he didn't expect to be able to work on the rings after the sedation, as if... She swallowed hard. "Should I beat on your chest again, Jay?" Tears quivered her voice.

He paused and looked at her for a long moment. Then he gave a single nod, as if understanding her need to try anything possible to help. Setting down the pen and pushing aside the tray, his hot hand cupped her cheek. "I won't go anywhere, Emma."

She kissed his hand and then helped him turn onto his stomach.

The fever seemed to keep him from falling into a deep sleep still. At sunrise, he woke up and pushed himself to a sitting position. "Let's go for a walk."

Sitting up in bed next to him, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "What?"

"It might help the pneumonia."

"Really? Is that what the doctor said?" She got up.

"No, but I'm willing to try anything."

She helped him on with his robe that had been in the suitcase and reconnected the IV as he directed. He needed quite a bit of support to stand. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

His arm around her shoulders held tight. "I just need a moment for my blood pressure to catch up." As his vitals on the machine evened out, he leaned on her a bit less.

A nurse walked in. "Where on earth are you going?"

"For a walk." He pulled the pulsox off his finger and hit the button for it to stop screeching as it showed him flatline on the screen.

"No, you still have a fever. The doctor will be here in an hour or so for sedating. You need to rest." The woman took his other arm and tried to make him sit on the bed again.

"He's not sedating." The man planted himself like an impenetrable fortress even in his condition.

"Just let us try and see if this helps." She gave the nurse a pleading look.

"He's weak and dizzy. The only walking he'll do is in a wheelchair or with a walker."

The poor thing had a living fit about having to use an 'old man' walker. He shuffled and was breathless like he needed it, though, as she pushed his IV pole. THe moment the nurse was distracted in the hall talking to another nurse, he shoved the walker against the wall, draped his arm around her shoulders, and took the IV pole himself - either for balance or so she wouldn't have to push it.

She cracked a smile and held him around the waist. If he felt well enough to spite the nurse, then he must not be at death's door. He seemed to be doing well enough without getting winded, so she didn't scold.

It only took a few seconds for the nurse to notice. "What are you doing?!" The woman caught up and stood in his way with the walker.

Sheer stubbornness in his eye couldn't be dulled by the pain or fever. He glared at the nurse.

"Take it." She pushed it closer and folded her arms over her chest.

Not a muscle moved except for his chest rising and falling a hint more than usual from the exertion.

Oh dear. The nurse didn't know what she faced. "Perhaps we go to the end of the hall and then you use it on the way back."

His glare didn't waiver, and he either didn't hear her or chose not to.

"You are too unsteady and weak. I can have security escort you back to bed, or you can take the walker." The nurse wasn't going to give in.

Oh no. That was the wrong thing to say.

"Try me," he growled.

"Alright, you two. We aren't going to have a showdown. We'll turn around and go back to the room without the walker, Jay." She gave a gentle tug on his waist and he followed, although he gave the nurse a final glare.

He got in bed as complacent as a child. The moment she stepped back and the nurse stepped forward to check the IV, he tensed and pulled his hand away. "My wife will do it."

The older woman clenched her teeth. "Your wife is not a nurse on staff."

The man's eye narrowed with anger. "Pull that syringe out of your pocket."

Heaving a sigh, the nurse pulled out a syringe that he'd somehow known was there. "The doctor ordered it - "

"And I refused!" Shouting sent him into a coughing fit.

She stepped around the nurse, grabbed the oxygen mask, and turned it on when he had trouble catching his breath. He didn't resist when she put it on him and guided his arms up to lay over her shoulders to open up his lungs more. "Easy, Jay. Deep breaths." She held his eye and laid her hands on his sides to feel how much he struggled. "Can you go without the inhaler?" He needed to sleep rather than get the jitters.

He nodded but a second later launched into another coughing fit. The man couldn't catch his breath, but he leaned forward and patted a hand on his chest as a signal. Then he grabbed the bedrail. His body was trying to get the infection out.

DRawing a deep breath to not panic, she beat hard and fast on his back like he'd shown.

His poor body wracked with a cough so hard that it might've made a non-SEAL faint. He snatched a nearly empty cup of water on the bed tray and got rid of the infection that had come up. Both of his hands leaned on the bed as he heaved in air.

"Do you need more?" She rubbed his back that was probably black and blue now. When he shook his head, she helped him sit back and happened to glance up.

The physician stood near the door with his hands in his pockets and the nurse nowhere in sight. "Couldn't have done it better myself, Mrs. Port." He walked around the bed and looked at the vitals on the screen. "Are you a nurse?"

She raised the bed and helped Jason lie back. The poor thing was so breathless, but he cracked a smile when she spoke. "No, I can't stand the sight of blood."

The doctor became quite serious. "Jason, I understand your reluctance for sedation and to go on a ventilator - "

"No."

Jason hadn't mentioned a ventilator, but he apparently knew about it. Her eyes flew to the doctor. "Why? He already has pneumonia that came on fast. A ventilator increases the risk for pneumonia. The heavy sedation would decrease his respirations and make the pneumonia worse. He's strong enough to walk, why in God's name would you put him on it?"

"Mrs. Port, calm down. It would allow his body to rest for a couple days - "

"And what about the toll the sedation would take on him?" Her heart pounded with irritation. "Even when he wakes up, he'll still be out of it for many days. What about the confusion and agitation afterwards? Are you going to drug those symptoms away?"

Jason set a hand on her arm. "Em, settle."

"May I see you in the hall?" She swept past without waiting for an answer.

In the hall, she turned to the doctor, her eyes narrowing and voice quiet so Jason wouldn't overhear. "He knows exactly what's involved with all of this because he's done it before; don't make him do it again. You figure out what antibiotics are going to work. Get a respiratory therapist in there to have him do breathing exercises and figure out how often I need to do chest pounding. And figure out some pain meds that won't make him groggy because he's refusing them right now and wearing himself out."

His eyebrow rose. "Are you finished?"

"No. He needs better nutrition than IV feelings and shakes." She set her hands on her hips and looked at him expectantly.

He cracked a smile. "I see you will be a handful. I will see what else I can figure out for pain management, and we can try your methods for a day as long as he doesn't drastically worsen. I'll send his secretions to the lab and make sure he's on appropriate antibiotics. Do whatever you can to get him to sleep. The nurse tells me that he naps for less than an hour at a time. He must be on liquids in case we do have to sedate him."

She gave a nod and turned to go.

"Mrs. Port?"

Turning in the doorway, she looked at him.

"My apologies about your rings, but he's going home. He's not going to give you up without a fight, and believe me, he fought like hell the last time around." Then he walked to the nurses' station.

* * *

"I can't." He panted to catch his breath after rolling onto his side for the bandage change.

She sat in a chair at eye level beside the bed and held his hands. "Yes, you can. You're done with the most painful dressing changes. These are a walk in the park now."

"Beat on my...chest so my face...won't seem so painful."

"Jay." She cracked a smile and kissed his hand. "I don't want you to hurt, but I'm glad you feel well enough to be sarcastic." Leaning in closer, she whispered, "I promise to give you a sponge bath after this."

He just closed his eye and grunted. "I want more...than that."

The poor thing was in such a sweat during the bandage change. "Let me...see." He tried to sit up when they took off the last of the bandages.

"Jason, lie down." The doctor set a hand on his shoulder.

"Jay." She shot up and tried to hold his arm.

"I need to see...what Emma sees." A violent wet cough wracked his body.

She glanced at the doctor, the same reluctance in his eyes. "When you aren't so sick, Jay. Now lie down." Gripping both of his upper arms, she used all of her strength to keep him from sitting up more.

He didn't have the strength to resist and sank back down. "Show me." His eye drifted shut from being so exhausted. It only took a few seconds of stroking his arm for him to fall asleep from being so drained.

"Well, now I hate to finish," the doctor whispered, holding the fresh bandages at the ready. "But, he has to have it wrapped."

"Let me wash and shave him before you put the final wrappings on. It'll do him a world of good in feeling better, I think."

Thankfully, he slept three hours. When his eye fluttered open, his cheek wasn't as pink. He offered a weak smile when his eye landed on her.

She smiled and took his hand from her seat beside the bed. "Hi, sleepyhead. The culture came back and the antibiotics should be working. Your oxygen levels stopped falling. How are you feeling?"

His eye closed for a moment. "Like a thousand...years old." The poor thing still sounded breathless. "Is the male nurse...on yet?"

"No, sweetheart. Do you need the bathroom?" When he gave a half nod, she got up and fetched the urinal.

"I'm sorry."

She turned around and frowned before reaching the counter. "Whatever for?"

He turned his face toward her just a bit so as not to disturb the bandages on the back of his head. "For taking that stupid mission and making you...lose your rings and...have to take care of me like an invalid."

Grabbing the container and walking back to him, she held his eye. "You are not an invalid and you should not be sorry for saving dozens of lives. I'm not going anywhere, Jay." Then she pulled down the sheet.

The man caught her wrist. "I can do it." When she opened her mouth to protest, he looked at her. "I need some of my dignity back."

"Alright." She kissed his bare cheek. "I would help if you want, though. Do not get out of that bed. I'll get things ready for giving you a sponge bath."

Once he was settled and propped up in bed, she lathered his face with an old cup and lathering brush. His eye closed as he relaxed. "I have never used a real strope razor, and I'm not about to practice and slit your throat now. I have an extra razor, so you'll just have to be content with having a pink one."

He cracked a smile. "There are worse ways to parish than...at the hands of a pretty barber."

A flush crept up her neck. "I wish you'd let me watch you shave. There's something homey and serene about watching a husband shirtless and lathered."

His eye opened and remained solemn. "There's nothing homey about looking at gross deformity." He didn't seem as breathless, although he spoke a bit slower than usual, as if to not lose his breath.

She just shrugged and brushed the cream down his neck. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

Such a sigh of disagreement came from him, but he didn't comment.

"Hold still." Biting her lip, she ran the razor down his neck.

With a gentle touch, he cupped her hand and guided with stronger pressure. Then he let go. His eye burned as she focused on not slitting his throat. "Why do I not frighten you? It must be grotesque if no one will let me look. You touch me without hesitation, as if you do not see the beast."

Her hand stilled and she scowled. "I'm not going to dignify that with a reply, and this is precisely why I don't want you to look until you're more healed. Now, how do I get about your mouth?"

He opened his mouth a bit to pull his skin taught.

"Thank you. After this, I'll give you a bath."

"Pity bath? Well, if my pretty wife wants to give it, who am I to deny?"

She got a warm basin of water and returned to start the bath when someone knocked on his door. Setting down the water on the bed tray, she answered it.

A young girl stood there with a fleece blanket of an American Eagle and flag. "Hi. I'm part of a volunteer group who gives blankets to injured vets. The doctor said that there's a vet in this room."

"Oh. Yes. Give me a moment to make sure he's decent." She left the door cracked and went back to him. "Jay? We're going to postpone your bath for a moment. There's a young girl at the door with a group who gives injured vets blankets." She pulled his gown up to his shoulders.

"Jason Port is not a vet, Emma."

Her hands stilled and she looked at him. His face offered no expression. "The doctor told her that you are. You're ill and hurt, and if nothing else, you deserve a measly blanket from your country."

He shook his head and pressed his lips together to hold his composure. "I'm not a vet." And how those words seemed to rip out his heart.

Anger bubbled up. She clenched her teeth to keep her voice down as tears welled. "You sacrificed not only in the war but every day. A few days ago they were in a pinch and you suddenly were good enough for them again." She thrust a finger at the bed. "You don't even get a bullet dug out on their dime, and now you're in here fighting for your life and they've done nothing. Goddamnit, someone wants to give you a token of appreciation for everything you've done to keep terrorists out of our country, and the government has you convinced that you can't even accept that." She spun on her heel.

"I do this to protect our family from lunatics finding out that I'm not dead," he hissed.

She looked over her shoulder. "And I do this for you." Stepping into the hall, she looked at the girl. "This is for my grandfather, Peter Hoplin?"

The girl blinked. "We don't get a list of names, ma'm, just room numbers. It just needs to get to a vet."

"Thank you. He doesn't want anyone in the room - he's still adjusting to his injury. I'll see that he gets this. It'll mean a lot to him."

"Thank you, ma'm." The girl handed over the blanket and left.

She walked in with the blanket and his eye narrowed. "Hush, Jay. I told her it was for my grandfather, who also happens to have the same name as my father - just in case anyone asks her. She said they don't get names, just room numbers. My grandfather was a vet, so I do not feel one ounce of guilt in taking this for you."

He shook his head and looked away. "Take it back." His palpable ache sliced right through her heart. He wanted to accept the simple gift that meant so much but he didn't think he deserved it.

Holding the folded blanket in her arms, she searched his profile. "She said I just need to make sure this gets to a vet." She swallowed hard to choke back the tears. "Not as your wife but as a citizen, I choose to give this to a veteran who is a hero to those whose lives he's saved and this country he protected." Spreading the fleece over his sheet, she smoothed it out over his legs and pretended not to see the tear that fell in his lap. Her voice grew thick and she whispered, "The words are so inadequate, but thank you for your service and your sacrifice to our country." Then she brushed a kiss over his cheek.

His lip quivered and he turned his face away to the far window. He laid a hand over the blanket, and a tear rolled down his cheek.


	37. Chapter 37

She walked into the bathroom to give him a few minutes to fall apart in privacy. Peeking around the corner, her heart wrenched as he looked down at the blanket and gave a long, tender stroke to the flag. Not her husband but a veteran, too brave and stubborn for his own good, sat in that bed right now. A man not even born in this country had more loyalty and love for it than many. This man may've been forced to join and moved up the ranks to spite those who said he'd be nothing, but that hadn't instilled the devotion to the flag.

The heartbreak rippling off of him broke her heart. Returning to his bedside, she sat in the chair rather than on his cherished blanket. "After you proved yourself, why did you remain enlisted? You had served your time for the government to pay for college, yet if my math is right, you served for two more deployments. You could've retired after being injured but you stayed on reserves."

His eye remained on the blanket. "So many people born in this country...take the simplest things for granted. In...many countries, children play in the streets...filled with waste and filth and drink brown water. In some...countries, boys carry guns by the age of nine. In...other countries, poverty is a child's only...companion on cold, hungry nights."

Tears welled - poverty that he'd known.

Raising his gaze to her, he spoke quiet and humble. "In this country, the hungry can...be fed, the children can play on...the streets, and the poor can be educated. This...is the country where I want my children to grow up...and ask me that same question because they've...never had to know hardship. This is the...land of opportunity. I came with nothing and it gave...me everything. I did it to protect this way of...life and give my family a safe home where children can ride...a bike down the sidewalk without fear of being blown up."

Swallowing hard, she laced her fingers with his on the blanket and searched his face. Awe and humility softened her voice. "It doesn't make being in the hospital easier, but what you're bearing now is a direct result of you making this land safe again a few days ago, Jason. You showed the world that this country has no tolerance for terrorists. You showed the nation that no one can threaten us. Perhaps in a more direct way than ever before, you kept this country safe for our babies." Then she stood and kissed his smooth, hot cheek.

The poor thing was out of breath from so much conversation. After a moment, he spoke again. "What day is it?"

She glanced at her phone. "Monday." When he looked uncertain what to say, she cocked her head. Ah. Mondays he usually went to church. "Do you want me to call Father Bob?"

He shook his head. "He's figured out by now I'm not showing up today."

"No, do you want me to call and see if he will come here?" She set a hand over his. It seemed to bother him to miss Mass, but it was like he felt guilty to ask the priest to drive out. She dialed on her phone and held Jason's gaze. Hope flickered in his eye. "Hi, Father Bob. It's Emma Port...well, Jason's in the hospital...yes, would you mind? He'd like that...alright, thank you." She hung up and smiled. "He'll be here in a half hour. He sounded worried and in a rush to get here. I'll give you a bath in a bit."

When Father Bob arrived, Jason grew very solemn. Her grip tightened on his hand in concern. The poor dear didn't seem as happy to see the priest as expected.

"Jason, I'm so sorry to see you in here. Did you have complications with the scars?" Father Bob looked from Jason to her in confusion.

Jason's gaze fell to Father Bob's chest. He swallowed hard and seemed...ashamed. "In the terrorist attack a few days ago, I killed nine men...children really. Most couldn't have been older than twenty."

Oh no. Her heart plummeted. All this time he'd been upset about this and hadn't said anything. She kissed his cheek. "I'll wait outside, love." He wanted confession and didn't deserve for her to stay and feel like she judged him for his sins.

Father Bob stepped out a few minutes later, heartache on his face. "Sometimes we are put in impossible situations. God bless the men brave enough to protect us, but I would not trade places with them for the world. I told him that God knows what lies in our hearts and He will forgive those who truly repent. I also told him that it's okay for him to lean on you. Go to him, Emma. He suffers not just in body but in spirit. These wounds remind him every moment of the cause."

With a shaky breath, she nodded. "Do you think he needs to talk to a therapist?"

He shook his head. "He needs your love right now. I gave him Communion too. Would you like the same?"

She swallowed hard, a little nervous, a little self-conscious. This wouldn't have been something she'd have even thought to do a year or two ago. "And maybe a prayer for Jason to get better?"

Father Bob smiled and led her back inside. "Jason? Emma asked for a prayer that you get better."

Jason cocked his head and looked at her, as if surprised.

Her cheeks burned and heart beat faster. Jason thought her silly and -

"I've never had anyone pray for me besides him." So much awe filled his voice.

With cheeks growing hotter, she bowed her head in embarrassment. "At dinner when we pray, I always say a prayer for you."

He stared with tears welling in his eye. A simple act that took no more than a second or two each evening meant the world to him. Faith had become the core of him - perhaps because at one time, it had been all he'd had left in the entire world. "I pray every day for you too," he whispered.

"Let's join hands and bow our heads." Father Bob started the prayer.

After Father Bob left, she sat on the edge of Jason's bed and held his hand. "You can talk to me about anything. You know that, right? I won't love you any less."

His eye dragged up to her. "I shouldn't have blurted that in front of you." Then a coughing fit rattled his chest. When she pressed a hand to his chest to held absorb some of the vibrations so he wouldn't tear the cartilage, he glanced at her with a confused look. The cough passed but the look remained. "You've known so much violence. I don't...understand why I don't frighten you. If not my face, then what I have done; what I am capable of."

Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his left shoulder, mindful of the bandages. "You're a good man, Jason. Sometimes you're forced to make choices to keep people safe. It is your motive and your heart that make it impossible to fear you."

His left arm wrapped around and his right held as tight as he could. Then he laid her down across his lap and stroked her hair. He gazed down and held her eyes. The illness and pain and weakness faded from the lines of his face for a moment. In it's place bloomed love, tenderness, and hope. "You're my angel, Emma." Gentle fingers brushed a lock of hair from her brow. "When things are dark, you show me the way."

She fell into his beautiful blue eye. Her heartbeat slowed, calm and serene under his love. Another wet cough wracked his body, shattering the tender, romantic moment. Sitting up, she prested a hand to his chest so it wouldn't hurt him so much. The poor man needed a bath to relax him so he'd fall asleep.

With a rag and a towel at the ready, she washed small areas of his skin at a time to keep away a chill that would drive up the fever.

"Emma, I love this." He sighed in relaxation and his eye drifted shut. "I love you too."

A smile tugged as she trailed the rag over his hard abs. "I love you."

His body relaxed as he fell asleep.

The nurse came in a bit later. "Is he sleeping?" She kept her voice down.

"He is. An hour now." She smiled and set down her phone where she sat beside the bed.

When the nurse checked his temperature, she frowned and ran it across his forehead again. "Jason." The woman shook his shoulder.

Her stomach dropped. They wanted him to sleep and wouldn't try to wake him unless something was wrong. She scooted to the edge of her seat. "What's wrong?"

"His temp is approaching one hundred six. He's not sleeping, he's unconscious." The nurse hit a button to get the team in fast.

Oh god, this whole time he'd been getting worse while she'd just been sitting there. She took his burning hot hand and pumped his hand while rubbing his cheek as the nurse flew around the room. "Jay, look at me. Open your eye, honey." His hand twitched - perhaps a reflex or maybe he was trying to wake up. "That's it. I need you awake. Look at me. Honey, open your eye." Frightened tears burned.

His eyelashes fluttered for a few seconds as she kept coaxing and he finally looked at her with a half-hooded gaze.

She choked back a cry of relief. The nurse pulled her back as the doctor and nurses poured in. "Is he gonna be alright? I thought he was sleeping." She held a hand over her mouth to control the sobs.

"You couldn't have known." The nurse sat her in a chair at the back of the room. "We can use ice and drugs to force down the fever."

"Jason, open your eye," the doctor demanded. "Jason, look at me."

Her heart stopped.

The doctor looked up. "Mrs. Port." He nodded for her to come. When she rushed to his side, he said, "Get him to respond to you. If we can control the fever with drugs and ice, it's the easiest route for his body."

She took Jason's hand again and reached to touch his face. "What's the other route?"

"Inducing a coma through hypothermia."

Her eyes flew to him in horror but he remained focused on pumping drugs in the IV line while the nurses put ice packs on his body. "Jason, I need you to open your eyes again. Look at me, honey. Jason."

His eye dragged open, and she smiled. "Stay with me, Jay. You have a high fever and I need you to stay awake for a few minutes."

"Cold."

She looked down at his chest to see if he had goosebumps that would drive up the fever. Nothing. Then she looked at him. "I know, love. You need ice so you don't get too hot." She adjusted the ice pack that slid off his neck, careful to keep it off the bandages. When his eye drifted shut, she rubbed his cheek. "No, Jay, look at me."

The poor dear forced his eye open. "Tired."

"I know, but you can't sleep yet." What had she done? If this had been caught an hour ago... The tears welled and thickened her voice. "Please, Jay. Stay awake." Two tears fell onto his arm.

His brow furrowed a bit, as if he tried to comprehend what had her so upset. His hand pulled away and he tried to reach up to touch her face, but the effort was beyond him. His hand fell to the bed. When she took it again, his fingers curled around in a weak grip. "Don't cry."

She kissed his hand and stroked his hair, a watery smile escaping that even in his state, he worried about her. That had to be a good sign.

The hustle and bustle of the room calmed down until only a nurse and the doctor remained. Jason seemed to have to use every ounce of strength to keep his eye open. The nurse ran a thermometer across this temple again. "One hundred four point seven."

"That's good." The doctor set a hand on her shoulder. "We don't want his temp to drop too fast and shock his body, but a response of nearly a degree this soon is good." Then he looked down. "Jason, can you follow the conversation?"

His throat convulsed as he swallowed and his eye remained semi-open. "Fever dropping."

"Yes. Your body is under a great deal of stress with the wound and the pneumonia. We're losing options. I strongly suggest that we give you time to rest with hypothermia."

Her eyes flew to the surgeon. "What?"

The doctor turned to her with a solemn face. "Dropping his body temperature to about ninety degrees would allow his brain to perform only the essential functions and conserve a great deal of energy. We'd have him on a ventilator and transfer him to ICU to make sure he's monitored closely."

"No! Lowering it will compromise his immune system. The infection will get out of control - "

"Emma," the physician said in all seriousness, "we do it now in a controlled way, or we wait for the fever takes over his body and pulls him."

It hurt - the fear pounding in her chest. Her head whipped to Jason and she held his hand tighter. The doctor didn't need to say this could be dangerous. The doctor's words faded into the background as she searched Jason's eye. He would know if this was a good idea. "Jay?"

He simply held her gaze and gave her hand a weak squeeze. No protest came forth. The energy drained out of him more with each passing hour - enough that he wasn't going to resist the doctor any longer.

Her face crumpled.

"The risks - "

Shaking her head, her voice broke. "I don't want to know." The tears ran down too fast to wipe away.

* * *

She sat beside the bed holding his cold hand and stared, her voice raw from reading and talking to him. The doctor said that sometimes patients could hear during the coma. He needed to know that she hadn't left his side.

Tubes and wires came out from everywhere and machines constantly beeped. The worst noise was hearing the ventilator breathing for him. It became an agonizing, terrifying sound - Jason's life hung on that machine not malfunctioning. Each minute dragged past. It had been one thousand one hundred and ninety minutes - nearly twenty hours - since the coma had been started.

Someone set a hand on her back. Probably a nurse again to shove more food at her and try to convince her to take a nap.

"He's strong, baby. He's going to be alright."

The breath on her lips froze. That voice. She looked over her shoulder, her voice coming out as a harsh rasp. "Mama?"

Mom stood there in her coat and held out her arms.

She threw herself at her and burst into gut-wrenching sobs.

When she calmed, Mom guided her toward the couch on the other side of the bed against the wall for family to sleep on.

"No, he needs to know..." Her voice finally gave out and she dug in her heels. When Mom let go, she sat in the chair again and took his hand, looking up with pleading eyes.

Mom set a hand on Jason's arm. "Jason, the nurses said Emma hasn't slept or eaten in thirty hours. She's grated her voice raw and needs to rest. We'll sit on the sofa right here. I'll keep watch while Emma naps." Then Mom took her hand and tugged her up.

If she let go of Jason, he might slip away. She had to touch him so he'd know she hadn't left. He had to keep fighting.

But Mom pried her hand away. "He knows we're here, baby."

"I need to read to him." Her voice scratched in a terrible, scratchy whisper that hurt like sandpaper scraping flesh in her throat.

"I will read to him so he knows we're here. He might not even recognize your voice if you don't let it rest, baby." Mom took the phone out of her hand and sat on the corner of the couch, pulling her down to rest her head in Mom's lap.

Mom's soft voice read an e-book on the phone and that gentle, motherly hand stroked her hair - just like Mom had done to put her to sleep as a child after a nightmare. Nana must've told Mom she had to come. Whatever had pushed Mom to come out, all that mattered was she here. Her eyes drifted closed. Mom would keep watch over him. Just for a few minutes.

* * *

Consciousness drifted closer and Mom's voice began to penetrate. Mom? It'd all been a nightmare - the hospital and Jason's illness. But why was Mom in the bedroom and Jason not near? Heat didn't radiate from her side where Jason should've slept. She nuzzled the pillow and frowned. The clock ticked an odd sound.

Her eyes fluttered open and the world caved in. A hospital room. It hadn't been a dream. Mom sat in the chair beside the bed. Jason's vitals beeped slow and steady.

"Your text came in late. I called Stevens and he had your plane sent out as soon as possible, just like you said. I know I should've come sooner. It broke my heart when you texted what she'd told Nana." Mom's words warbled with tears. "I called the jeweler and told him to replicate her engagement and wedding rings. You were right - he had the prints still. They should be ready in a couple weeks."

She looked around. No one else was in the room. Mom spoke to Jason. He must've texted Mom that night he'd been up late.

"I'm glad you told me to come. Emma looks exhausted and so stressed. Her cheeks are a bit thin like she's lost weight too. I'll stay here as long as you both need me."

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes.

"Morning, baby." Mom smiled.

"Morning?" She pulled the blinds aside and looked out the window. The sun had just started to rise.

"You slept all afternoon and through the night." Then Mom leaned closer to Jason, her hand resting on his arm. "She looks a thousand times better." Mom nodded toward a steaming mug on the bed tray. "Honey and lemon for your throat, baby. Your husband will want to hear your pretty voice rather than a frog in a few hours."

She frowned. "A few hours?"

A massive grin brightened Mom's face. "The doctor came in last night and started reversing the hypothermia. He said it must be done slow over twelve hours. We have about four to go."

She sat up and stared in dumbfounded silence.

A nurse walked in with a smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Port. I see your mama got you to finally rest. What a shame it'd be for your husband to wake up and find you in a hospital bed. Mm hm." The woman checked Jason's vitals and adjusted some of the machines. "He's doing well. Becky, any twitching or anything?"

Mom shook her head and smiled. "He's been still as a lamb. No goosebumps or anything, like you said, Paula."

"Of course it's like I said! I know what I'm doing, mm hm." Then the nurse put on a mask, gloved, and began changing the bandages on his shoulder with a glance up. "Stop catching flies, honey, and come help me. You were gun-ho yesterday to be the one to moisturize his shoulder while I do his face."

The sun shined into the room as hopeful as her heart. She bounced up and scrubbed in the bathroom before putting on a mask and gloves to apply cream to his shoulder. The scars and bullet wound had paused in their healing since the hypothermia treatment.

"Lordy, his face is gonna do fine." The nurse peeled away the bandage.

Standing on her toes to lean over him, she frowned. His face seemed worse from the vasocontriction regressing healing rather than improving it. She looked at the nurse.

"I worked in an academic hospital in plastic surgery for ten years. Saw my share of burn victims. It's takin' it's time, but it's coming along. Mm hm. Gonna be a fine handsome man in a few weeks."

She bit her lip and continued working the cream around the cardiac electrodes on his chest and into the dry shoulder burn. "He's worried about how much worse the scarring will be."

"It's only as bad as you say it is, honey. A man don't care much what people think if his wife don't mind him."

Huh. Maybe there was truth to that. His first reaction he'd ever had to his burn was Carolyn, who'd been his future wife at the time...the bitch. Goodness, she should watch her tongue lest that slip out one day in Jason's presence. He'd cared for Carolyn enough to propose and she shouldn't make him feel worse about the woman. Maybe this time, he'd accept the scars better because he already saw her not shying away.

* * *

She held Jason's hand on one side and Mom's on the other as the doctor and respiratory therapist delayed the ventilator to see if Jason's body would wean off.

His chest didn't rise. One second, two, three... He wasn't breathing.

"Turn it on." Her heart raced and she stepped forward.

"Give him a few more seconds. It'll take his brain a moment to register that it needs to take over. He can be without air for at least a minute without harm. The machine will kick in if you don't do it yourself, Jason." The physician didn't seem panicked.

She held her breath and prayed.

His chest moved a hair. Then the ventilator kicked in. "That's alright," the doctor promised. "It'll take a bit for his body to catch on. Plus we've been giving sedatives and drugs to keep him from shivering so his body can rest."

Again they waited. His chest did a half breath. The ventilator kicked in another few seconds later. On the third try, his chest rose and fell on it's own.

She gasped in hope and squeezed Mom's hand. The ventilator kicked in for the next breath.

The two-hour process of weaning seemed to go on and on forever. The final step would be Jason conscious enough to breathe on his own, although he took more and more breaths without the machine.

His abdomen started convulsing and then his chest.

"He's bucking the ventilator. Jason, it's alright." The respiratory therapist readjusted the gas levels.

Jason's hand tightened in hers.

"Bag him." The doctor and nurse grabbed supplies.

"Jason, relax. It's helping you breathe." Her hands shook as he rubbed his leg and clutched his hand.

They shut down the vent and the therapist connected a bag to pump air.

He seemed to calm, but his eye still didn't open.

"Emma's here waiting for you. Can you open your eye, Jason?" Paula checked his temperature for the thousandth time. "Ninety eight point three. Almost there."

His grip this time was weak but unmistakably intentional. "He's waking up." Her heart raced. He'd be alright. It had to be downhill from here.

"It might take him a bit to fully awaken." The respiratory therapist pulled the bag off. "There's less resistance."

Jason's chest rose and fell, his breaths echoing through the tube.

Everyone watched the monitor. His oxygen level remained up and his heartbeat continued steady and strong.

The doctor's pager beeped. He shut it off. "I have to go check on a patient. He's doing well. I'll be back in a few minutes."

In those few minutes, Jason's eye fluttered open but he looked out of it, pale, and ill.

"What's your blood sugar doing, sweetie?" The nurse got a glucometer and pricked his finger. "Mmm hmm. You need a little insulin."

She didn't dare breathe. Some catastrophic complication would spring up - maybe this was it. Maybe he had organ damage from it or brain damage. "Why is his blood sugar up?"

"Cuz we just froze him, honey. It's not uncommon." Paula paged for a nurse, who came in a flash. "Get the doc to order him some insulin. The poor thing is right ready to pass out." When the nurse left, Paula listened to his chest. "You go and give your wife a scare like that - if you be my husband, I'd right smack you, doll." Then she flashed a light in his eye to check reflexes.

He squinted, finally reacting to something.

"There ya are, honey. You're in the hospital. We have a tube down your throat to help you to breathe, doll."

"I think he's ready to extubate." The respiratory therapist lowered the bed and the nurse took Jason's hands.

She looked at Mom with wide eyes and held her hand tight as the nurse and therapist talked to him more and did some more reassessment.

"Here we go, sweetie. You're gonna gag good and strong. You show your wife how much better you're getting. Hold my hands tight now and don't help him pull out the tube."

Jason gagged and coughed for a moment as the nurse held down his hands.

"Good, honey. All done. That's the worst of it." Paula let go of his hands.

The nurse returned with a syringe of insulin and injected his forearm on the opposite side of the bed.

Paula continued to check him without raising the bed. "You feelin' better? That insulin will do you a world of good. Your throat is gonna be a bit sore for a few days. Do you know where ya are, honey?"

"Emma." His voice came out a bit raspy and drugged, but stronger than a couple days ago like he could breathe better.

"Emma's right here. Jason, tell me where you are."

"Hospital. Emma."

His worry pulled at her heartstrings and she sidled closer but still couldn't see around the nurse. "I'm here, Jay." She squeezed his hand.

He pulled his hand away. "Emma." The word filled with tears.

"Your voice is still hoarse, baby. He doesn't recognize you." Mom pushed her closer, practically against the nurse's back.

"Here's Emma." The nurse pressed against the bed to make room while still checking Jason. "There now, your color is coming back. That insulin is kicking in." She pricked his finger again to check his levels.

She leaned over the bed and the tears fell as she stroked his hair. "Hi, honey." Her lip quivered when he looked at her. He looked like absolute hell and never more precious.

But he didn't smile. A line creased his brow and his dilated eye darted around the room, an anxious expression spreading across his face. "Emma?"

The blood drained to her feet and the room spun. He didn't recognize her.

"Can you see?" The nurse flashed a light in his eye again. "Everything's all blurry yet, isn't it, doll?"

"Where's Emma?"

"Emma's right here. She lost her voice reading to you so much." The nurse took her hand and pressed it into Jason's. "See? That feels like Emma." Then Paula dropped her volume. "Sit and let him touch your face. He's disoriented and nervous. Not being able to see and your voice being hoarse are making him worried we're tricking him."

So she sat and guided his hand to cup her cheek. "It's me, Jay. I'm right here."

His face crumpled and he reached up with his right arm, the pain from the bullet wound making him grunt but it didn't slow him. With heartbreaking tenderness, he held her face in his hands and his fingers explored every curve. Tears fell from the corner of his eye and rolled down onto the pillow. And then he smiled - a beautiful smile straight from his soul. "It's you. Emma." His lips quivered. "I remember hearing you. You didn't leave."

She burst into tears and wept on his chest, her heart never overflowing so much before with love.


	38. Chapter 38

She sat beside Jason's bed in ICU. He had slept almost constantly the past three days since waking up from the hypothermia treatment. The nurse came in every couple hours to make him cough up more of the infection. The poor man was so exhausted he could barely follow directions and he didn't fail to fall back asleep the moment the nurse would leave. He didn't even seem to register her presence. The fever responded to medication this time around, so Mom had gone back home yesterday.

"Doll, you've been with him for over a week. You need a break more than just to grab a bite from the cafeteria or shower in that little bathroom here. Go home and sleep. He's so exhausted that he won't wake up for another several hours." Paula recorded his vitals for the second time that hour.

She shook her head and yawned. "The moment I leave, he'll wake up and worry that I left."

"You're looking ready for the hospital yourself, mm hm. Write him a note. I'll leave it taped on the bed tray here facing him, and I promise to call if he wakes up early. He needs you strong, sweetie. If he's as stubborn as the doctor says, he'll have my hide if he wakes up and finds you worn out like this."

It grew harder and harder to sleep on the tiny sofa each night.

"If you catch a cold, I can't let you in here to see him for several days." Paula cocked her eyebrow.

"Alright! One more night and then I'll go home."

The poor man slept most of the next day too. She laid down after supper. One catnap just for a few minutes before going home...

* * *

Another terrible catnap on the cramped, hard sofa. Paula's voice whispered something.

"I know, but she looks so beautiful and tired. I don't want to wake her yet," a deep baritone whispered through the haze of sleep.

"She's plum tuckered out, mm hm." Paula's voice seeped in.

"I'll convince her ta go home and get some sound sleep," the baritone replied.

Consciousness drifted closer. That deep voice seemed familiar but had a roughness to it from disuse. A faint Scottish accent slipped in. Jason. Her eyes flew open.

He reclined propped up a bit on his side in bed. His face had more color and most of the shadow under his eye had vanished. A smile touched his lips. "There's my sweetheart." Pain medication kept him from his usual crisp delivery, but he sounded a thousand times stronger than a few days ago.

She sat up and stared. Aside from the bandage on half of his face and neck, he looked almost like himself. It had to be a dream - he couldn't go from his deathbed two days ago to this. "Jason?"

His smile bloomed and he held out a hand.

Shooting across the small distance, she threw herself on the bed and hugged him so tight her arms hurt. She tucked her head under his chin and draped a leg over his, listening to his heart beating for reassurance. This was real. He had woken up and it would all be okay.

A soft chuckle bounced his chest and he held her tight. "Emma. God, I missed you."

"When did you wake up?" The exhaustion still weighed too heavy to cry tears of happiness.

"Last night." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Sitting back, she frowned and looked at him. "You mean today?" Huh. The glow of afternoon sunlight streamed through the window.

He shook his head, the tender smile softening his eye. "You slept more than twelve hours."

"He's doing just fine too. The doctor is going to move him out of ICU tomorrow." Paula piped up on her way out.

"You were so tired that I couldn't bear to wake you. I hear you wore yourself out this week." He frowned and ran his fingers through her hair, his fingers hitching for a moment on a tangle.

She pecked a kiss on his lips. "Goodness, Jay, you look so much better." Incredible relief swarmed, as well as embarrassment from jumping the poor man. She stood up with hot cheeks.

A smile tugged at his lips. "Oh no, I've waited too long for that to satisfy me." The mischevious glint in his eye spoke of how much better he felt. He reached out for her as he sat up.

Her giggle only seemed to encourage him.

He sat up in bed...and his eye grew wider and wider, barely not popping out of his head. The blood drained from his face. He lifted the blanket and peeked under. "Oh no, no, no, no." Then he stared at her in horror.

Her heart jumped into her throat. "What? What?"

"Emma! They - !" He gestured between his legs. "They just...oh my god!"

Uh oh. He'd finally realized there was a catheter. She pasted on a straight face. "You were unconscious for thirty-six hours and slept hours more. I asked for a male nurse when they did it - "

"You _knew_ they did this?!" He gasped in horror. "You gave permission for this?!" His mouth fell open in appalled shock.

"Jason! You're a doctor." Goodness, his mortification over a little cather was a bit funny. "You knew they had to do it for the hypothermia treatment." The laughter leaked out a bit.

"I did _not_. I was out of my mind with a fever! You just let them - " He flung a hand toward his pelvis. Then he snorted. "If we have fertility issues because of this, it's on your head." He hit the nurse button and pouted.

"There aren't going to be fertility issues, big baby. What should I have done? Left you incontinent for days?"

He wrinkled his nose at her in a sneer and then his eye returned to the doorway.

She cracked a smile. Oh my, the distinguished man could pout. It was a tad amusing. "Fine. Then I get to be mad at you when I'm pushing out an eight pound baby five hundred times the diameter of that Foley."

A glance from the corner of his eye made some of his thunder die. "Of course you get to be mad for me making you suffer."

Her smile withered. Never having witnessed a birth, even an educational birthing video, but Jason having helped deliver a couple babies during med school rounds...he probably knew how bad it was. Maybe it was like in the movies with all the screaming and pain...

"Emma, there's an epidural and other techniques to help with the pain." His voice softened and he reached out to take her hand. "I'll be right there the whole time. You don't need to be frightened."

"Is there really screaming like in the movies?" She nibbled her lip.

"No, sweetheart. It won't even be like what this past week has been." He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I promise."

He wouldn't lie about that. If he could do this for weeks, she could do a few hours of less pain. Some of the fear fled.

Paula walked in. "Whatcha need, doll?"

"A male nurse to get this Foley out." The man certainly could deliver orders like a haughty doctor when he wanted.

Paula folded her arms over her chest. "We don't have a male in this unit. And that ain't coming out yet. Mm hm."

"Oh yes, it is. I can do it." He dismissed Paula just like that. "Emma, grab a - "

"Emma isn't doing anything. Your butt stays in that bed and with that catheter until we know if the fever is coming back. There's a thermometer there too monitoring your core temp. If you try and take it out, I'll have to put restraints on you for trying to harm yourself." Paula pursed her lips.

Uh oh. Apparently Jason had met his match.

His mouth fell open. "I'm a doctor! I can remove - "

"I don't care if you're God. You'll be a harm to yourself pulling out tubes and such." Paula cocked an eyebrow.

He looked at Paula in shock and then looked at her. "Emma."

She suppressed a smile and looked at the woman. "I'll keep an eye on him. If he does get it out, does the hospital have those condom Foleys? I read about them yesterday - there isn't such a risk for infection and damaging male pride."

"I heard that," he pouted.

Paula nodded. "We know you did." Then Paula looked at her. "We have those in ICU here."

His jaw hit the floor. "You have...but you didn't use...oh my god!"

She frowned at him. "You're really a baby about this, Jay. You didn't even know you had it until a few minutes ago. It's not hurting you, so I don't know why you're whining besides it being some male psychological phobia."

"Do you want someone sticking something up your female parts?"

The corner of her mouth pulled up. "You try to every night," she mumbled.

Paula burst out laughing, but he didn't look amused. Paula left.

He gaped at her. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am. I'm making sure you're properly monitored so that you get better." She sat in the chair beside the bed.

Muttering to himself, he lifted the blanket.

"Put it down." The tone left no room for disobedience. If he wanted to play battle of the wills with the notion that he'd win, he'd be sorely disappointed.

The man just glared at her over the blanket but didn't move.

She cocked an eyebrow.

He huffed in disgust and dropped the blanket with a roll of his eye.

"Don't roll you eye at me." Her mouth fell open with a laugh of surprise. "You're acting like a child! My goodness, Jay. You go to war, walk through a fire, get shot, but a Foley makes you freak out." She smoothed his blanket out on the bed.

He didn't comment for a moment. "I feel like crap and have had needles and daily tortures coming at me for days. I'm allowed to freak out about something." His voice fell quiet and subdued.

"You're right. You can freak out as much as you want as long as you don't pull that out. If you hurt yourself, then you'll really have something to be upset about."

That didn't elicit a sassy reply. "You should run down to the cafeteria for dinner before they close."

Cracking a smile, she sat down in the chair. "Oh, good try. You just want me gone so you can take that out."

But he shook his head and swallowed hard, still avoiding eye contact.

She heaved a sigh and got up. "Don't you dare touch that. They'll just have to put it back in, and you'll be awake for it this time."

He gave a single nod but still didn't look up.

"Do you want me to see if they have a milkshake or something? They won't bring your dinner for another half hour."

A small shake of his head was his only reply.

"Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes." She kissed his cheek, grabbed her purse, and walked out. Sweet heaven, it felt good to get out of that room for a few minutes and not stare at those walls another minute. He'd seemed so quiet all of the sudden...like he was sad. Her feet slowed. Like he wanted her out of the room not to get the Foley out but because he wanted privacy. Instinct said to go back and check on him. She turned around.

Peeking in the doorway, she remained on his blind side. His knees were bent up and he leaned his elbows on his knees, holding his head. A soft sniffle broke the silence.

Oh god, he'd wanted an empty room so no one would see him cry. Such a strong man so tired of pain and needles and hospitals that it had finally reduced him to tears. It ripped her heart out. She slipped back inside, set her purse on the chair, and sat on the bed.

He bowed his head and gave a single, rough brush to his eye to hide the tears. "You're supposed to be downstairs." His voice rasped thick.

"And you're supposed to tell me when you start getting this overwhelmed." She scooted closer on the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

"I want to go home." His voice quivered as more tears threatened.

She swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling to blink back tears. "I know, honey. I wish I could take you home. We take one day at a time. Olin gave me Family Medical Leave for the next month, so I'll be right here. It'll get easier here on out, Jay." She held tighter. "It's okay to cry."

His chest heaved like he tried to hold back, tried to stay strong.

Hospitals would become his life more and more with age, and there was nothing to do to change it or make it better for him. Tears burned. "You've carried me, Jay. I should think that my best friend and husband can feel safe to fall apart in my arms and know that I'll love and carry him." She pulled back enough to look at him but didn't let go.

His face crumpled and he pulled her into his lap, burying his face against her neck. No sound came, but his shoulders shook with tears that shattered her heart. His silent sobs bubbled up from the depths of his soul.

Stroking his thick, silky hair, she cradled his head on her shoulder. Each of his warm tears that ran down her neck branded a trail in her heart. All the times of worrying what it'd been like for him to go through this all alone after the fire, never had it occurred that she'd have the chance to be here to help him go through it again. And never had it occurred how lucky she'd been to not have been there to witness him suffer.

He seemed embarrassed after his meltdown, so she slipped downstairs to the gift shop on the way to the cafeteria. Balloons and flowers and cards decorated the shop. Just a bouquet of roses didn't seem enough for how much he struggled this time or to brighten the long road ahead. She meandered to the shelf of plush toys. The teddy bear with hearts and frills would probably embarrass him and seemed too feminine. The orange cat with a big Get Well Soon heart on the chest didn't seem like him - he wasn't a cat-type man. With a deep sigh, she did another lap around the small shop. There had to be something here that would make him smile.

Tucked in the bottom corner of a shelf, a plush brown dog a bit bigger than her hands held a cloth 'I love you' sign in his mouth. A yellow lab. She picked it up. It was cheesy and cliché, but not so sissy that people would look at Jason funny for having a stuffed toy in his room. The short fur felt like a fuzzy blanket, soft enough to want to touch but not overly cute for a man. This would be just the right size for Jason to clutch in his hand when his face hurt too. She smiled and took the dog to counter to pay, along with a vase of red roses almost the same hue as the first red rose he'd ever given her. Then she paid, scooped up the gifts, and hurried upstairs with a grin. He'd be so surprised that he wouldn't be able to help but be happy, even if only for a few minutes.

Jason appeared much more relaxed when she walked in. A smile even touched his face when he spotted the roses. "What are those?"

She set the heavy bouquet on the bed tray, a bit out of breath. "Roses for you." An ache formed in her cheeks from smiling so big. "Do you like them? They aren't as pretty as the ones you grow, but I thought maybe they'd make it seem more like home."

His smile inched bigger and bigger as he fingered the roses, fussing over them to arrange the blooms just so. "They're beautiful. Thank you, Emma. It does make it feel more like home. I've been so busy lately that I've neglected giving you more roses. I liked it that you put them in your room - it seemed homey."

"I don't expect roses all the time, Jay. I'll move them onto the table in the corner so they don't get in your way." She reached for the vase, a warm fuzzy glow inside her chest from making him so happy.

"No, leave them here." The smile still lingered on his lips and he sat back to admire the bouquet. "They're almost the same shade as the first red rose I gave you."

With a soft laugh, she sat on the bed and looked at the bouquet. "That's what I thought too."

"Emma, I love them." Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek, his eye sparkling for the first time since she woke up this afternoon.

A nurse walked in. "I tried to catch you down the hall. I'm sorry, we don't allow flowers in ICU. Some of the patients have respiratory issues."

Jason's smile fell right off his face.

Standing quick, she opened her mouth to protest. What hospital didn't let flowers in ICU? Then she looked at Jason. Her heart dropped when his expression flipped from sad to heartbroken as the nurse picked up the vase. She stepped around the bed to the nurse and whispered, "Can he keep one? He's having such a hard time..."

"I'm sorry. I can put them at the nurses' station in the burn unit to wait for him when he gets back there." The nurse gave an apologetic look.

His eye followed the nurse take away his beloved roses and he swallowed hard, looking so crestfallen. The sparkle left his eye and a gray cloud moved in, robbing all the happiness.

Her throat constricted, his expression making tears burn for his loss. "I'm so sorry, Jay. I didn't even think to ask if I could bring in flowers." She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

Keeping his gaze downcast, he swallowed hard and tried to put on a brave front. "It could be worse - you could...leave..." He seemed to realize his words that she might be going home for the night soon, like he'd told Paula earlier. Tears shimmered in his eye, drawing her own.

"Heyyy, I'm not going anywhere." She set a hand over his on the bed.

He turned his head away and cleared his throat to cover up the oppressing disappointment.

Opening her purse, she pulled out the dog. "I found somebody looking for a home." She set the pup in his lap.

The man twisted her heart when he looked down and his brow knit as he picked up the dog - almost like he might cry.

Oh no, maybe Carolyn had given him a plush dog in the hospital -

"I wanted a dog like this when I was a child."

She blinked in surprise. "You like it?"

Biting his lip, he nodded and stroked the dog. "I wanted a lab like this who would go everywhere with me. Da always said I could get one next year. There was always enough money for the pub but never enough for a dog."

Her heart lutched. He'd lacked not only food, warmth, parents around, and companionship as a child, but also having promises kept. To make a child heartbroken year after year and take the money for self-indulgence instead while your child starved... She scooted up beside him in the bed and looked down at the dog in his lap that he continued to stroke. Resting her cheek against his left shoulder, she linked her arm through his. "I think it's good I never met your dad - I don't think I would've liked him much."

He snorted. "That makes two of us."

Such bitter, sad memories. "What did you want to name your dog?"

"Dileas," he said, pouncing it 'd'ji-les.' He cracked a smile. "Scottish for 'faithful.'"

"Dileas." She frowned. That didn't sound like how he said it.

His smile bloomed. "Harder 'd' like 'duh' and the end almost sounds like 'less.'"

"Duh-je-less." Her brow snapped down. That didn't sound right either.

A laugh bounced her head on his shoulder, triggering a light coughing fit in him for a moment. "No, sweetheart. Say it again." His fingers hovered near her lips.

"D - "

His fingers pressed, instantly silencing further speech. "There." He smiled but didn't remove his fingers.

"Except you can't shove your hand in my mouth every time I say it," she mumbled around his fingers.

A laugh straight from his heart flowed out. "Ah, Emma." He wiped his eye, reclined, and pulled her down over him. "I love you. Lie on my chest for a bit before you go home for some decent rest, sweetheart."

"No, I'm staying."

"No."

She scowled. "You don't get to wake up and order me about." He tugged her to drape over himself like she weighed no more than a doll. "And manhandle me."

"Hush. I want to cuddle with my wife long enough to be remotely satisfied for the night before she goes." He tucked Dileas against his hip and laid back to recline in his two pillows. "Are you comfortable?" The dear man shifted a bit so his chest electrodes wouldn't press into her cheek.

"Mmmm, I could fall asleep." The steady beating of his heart created a relaxing rhythm. She closed her eyes. "Are you feeling alright?"

"The pain meds are starting to wear off." His grip tightened when she tried to sit up to hit the pain med button. "Just stay."

"What time is it?"

Right on cue, the night shift nurse walked in to ensure a pain med dose before the bandage change.

His poor heart beat faster and he didn't let go even after the nurse checked him and left.

"I called Stevens earlier to pick you up at nine."

It must be seven-thirty, with the bandage change a half hour away. "I'm staying, Jason."

He didn't comment and his heartbeat didn't slow, although his speech slowed from the drugs. "You'd think it would be a highlight...of the day to get the edge off, but...I hate how hard it gets to think."

Turning her face, she pressed a kiss to his gowned chest. "I know, honey." With a heavy sigh, she held him tighter. "In a few days you won't have to be on such strong drugs."

"I wanted..." He seemed to pause to try to form his thoughts. "Wanted more than a half hour to be...co, cohere-dent...dammit..."

"Coherent," she offered, the fact that he knew he struggled broke her heart.

"Yes. Enough to talk."

She pressed her lips together to hold back the heartache. He missed the intimate conversations and the drugs prevented him from having many of those. And how he needed those talks to make this whole ordeal seem less frightening.

His breathing slowed and tongue grew thick. "Don't go 'til I know...don...don't wanna...sleep." He stroked her back, his movements jerky and disjointed. "Can't tell if...you're real or dream..."

"It's okay. I'm real, Jay." Hot tears fell - he had no choice in rejecting the drugs because of how weak he'd become from the pneumonia, no matter how much he hated it. "Go to sleep. I'm right here, honey. I won't leave."

The dear man slept still when the nurse and doctor came in for the bandage change. She slipped off the bed and stroked his chest to wake him up. "Jay? Honey, it's time to change your bandages."

It took a few minutes to wake him. His eye remained unfocused, and he looked so impossibly sad as he rolled onto his side without a word for the torture to start. The beating of his heart picked up on the monitor as he grabbed the bedrail to brace for it. Even in his drugged state, he was familiar enough with pain to know it would be coming even though he didn't fully understand everything going on.

Tears welled and she pulled up a chair to help him through it. Again. Each time should get easier, but the cross seemed to get heavier for him.

This time half way through, he didn't just pant and sweat and writhe in pain. His breathing grew rapid and deep and his skin clammy as the doctor pulled the last of the dead tissue off.

"Bucket!" the doctor barked.

The nurse grabbed the bucket just as Jason shoved himself up and heaved inside-out. A soft whimper of pain from the stomach acid eating the raw wound around his mouth triggered another bout. The nurse nodded for her to hold the bucket and injected the IV line. His stomach settled a moment later. And his mangled, wounded lip bled.

With the bandages finally changed, he laid against the pillows, breathing hard from nausea yet. The nauseousness caused extra saliva, which necessitated changing the gauze at the corner of his mouth every five minutes to avoid wetness remaining against the new wound for long. Dileas remained clutched in his fist.

She wore a mask and gloves to keep from causing him an infection, and carefully removed the gauze square soaked in saliva.

His eye remained unfocused and he still had difficulty forming sentences, much less now with his mouth in pain. This wasn't something he'd ever let her do, but the staff had to go focus on a couple emergencies. Humiliation filled his eye, but he was too worn out and too drugged up to be able to protest much. A lone tear crawled down his cheek.

Swallowing hard, she bit back her own tears. "Don't you dare cry or you'll make me too. In sickness and in health, Jason." Her voice grew thick. "I'm glad they had to go. Because you need to see that I will not run. And that you cannot stop being my knight."

His lower lip quivered and his chest rose and fell faster.

"I love you," she whispered, her own tears falling.

Instead of pulling away like he would've a couple weeks ago, he pulled her closer. He held tight and his chest heaved in fighting back the tears as what he perceived as the last of his dignity shriveled up.

* * *

It felt wonderful to have a hot shower in a clean bathroom. She climbed into bed in Jason's bedroom at home. The fire Pete had started chased the chill from the room, but Jason wasn't here to chase the monsters from the shadows. Barely an hour after leaving him and the stress kept rising, despite Paula's promise to call if anything happened. Ten o'clock. One final call for the night to the nurses' station had confirmed that Jason slept comfortably and the fever that had broken a few hours ago still remained at bay. The poor man had suffered enough tonight and needed space, but it hadn't made leaving him any easier.

Curling up on her side, she pulled his pillow closer and breathed in his scent. It hurt to be without him - like some physical connection had been severed by the distance. She rubbed her naked ring finger and nuzzled his pillow. Sleep wouldn't come tonight...because of missing him so much.

Another two hours of staring at the fire and she dialed the hospital again. "Hi, I was just calling to check on my husband, Jason Port."

"Just a moment, Mrs. Port. Let me ask his nurse," one of the nurses in ICU said.

Maybe something was wrong. Maybe intuition had made it impossible to sleep. Her heart beat faster when a nurse didn't come on the line for more than a minute.

"Emma?" A deep voice answered.

She sat up in surprise. "Jay? Hi, did I wake you?"

"No, are you alright?" He didn't sound sleepy but worried.

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep and called the nurses' station to check on you. Did they wake you up?"

The stress left his voice. "The nurse came and said you were on the phone. I can't sleep either...I miss you."

Dear heaven, it was good to hear him. "I miss you too. Do you want me to come back?"

"No, you need to rest in a real bed. Why can't you sleep, sweetheart?" He sounded more and more like himself, like being needed gave him more confidence.

Closing her eyes made it easier to pretend the pillow was him. "It's hard to sleep without you near." She bit her lip. "I'm in your bed."

"Ohhh, love. It's just for a few more hours until you get some decent sleep."

"That seems like forever. Aren't you tired? What were you doing?"

"I slept so much that I think my nights and days are off. I was mindlessly flipping channels looking for something to distract me from watching the clock. What if I stay on the phone until you fall asleep?"

That tugged at her heartstrings and drew a smile. "Okay, but you have to tell me if you get tired. Are you getting enough pain meds?"

The happy note in his voice faded. "I am." Then he grew quiet.

"Jason, what's wrong?"

"The physician came in and said I don't get to leave ICU tomorrow. The fever hasn't returned, but my oxygen levels dropped enough that I'm back on oxygen."

She shot up. "Are you alright? Are you having trouble breathing? Is - "

"Emma, Emma, I'm fine. I only get breathless when I cough - "

"I'm coming back." She slid out of bed.

"No, you're not. You looked exhausted and need some decent sleep in a real bed." When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, "If you get sick, they won't let you come back."

The words died on her lips. Worry chewed at her stomach. "Jason, are you being honest? I need to trust that you really are fine otherwise. If I walk in there tomorrow and find things are worse than you're saying - "

"Love, I _am_ fine otherwise. I have enough energy for the coughing exercises without feeling like I'm going to pass out, so that has to be something." A smile lightened his voice.

"That's not funny."

His tone grew more serious. "Em, you're wound tighter than a top - you need to relax. I feel better than a few days ago. How are you feeling? Honest answer."

She laid down and curled up to the pillow. "I don't know. I've been so worried the past week that everything seems like a daze now. I can tell I'm tired, but it's like I'm so tired I can't sleep."

"I wish I could be there."

A shy smile tugged at her lips. Biting her lip, she cuddled the pillow tighter. "And what would you do if you were here?" Her heart beat faster.

Silence for a moment. His voice dropped to a deep timbre as he spoke softer for privacy. "I think you know what I would do, Emma."

An intense shiver ran up her spine, the huskiness in his tone leaving no doubt as to his intent. A giggle escaped. "I see those pain meds are working. Are you being naughty, Dr. Port?"

"Are you enjoying it, Mrs. Port?" His smile came through the phone.

"A gentleman would not ask such a question." The hot flush of her cheeks grew with the smile.

"Neither would a gentleman say that peeling off every piece of your clothes with my teeth would - "

Her heart raced with anticipation. The proper Dr. Port was indeed drugged up, but even his dirty talk would end up being romantic and sweet.

"So, don't let the dog do that," he finished.

She blinked. "What?"

A female voice mumbled on the other end of the line.

"No, I'm fine, thank you...Alright." Then his voice came through clearer. "Sorry, the nurse walked in."

She burst out laughing. "And here I was thinking that was weird dirty talk."

His awkward chuckle came through the line.

Oh no, he felt embarrassed at his first earnest attempt. Swallowing her own embarrassment so he wouldn't feel bad, she added, "I liked it until the dog came in." Silence. He must be too shy to try again. "Jay? I like it that you're romantic. I've heard some women say their husbands just climb on them and go at it."

"Of course I wouldn't, sweetheart. Men are easy - a woman shows up for a date and we're ready. Climb on me and go at it, and I'll be as happy as a clam. Women, on the other hand, take a bit more finesse to woo."

Her lips pursed. "You sound experienced."

He chuckled. "I've taken more cold showers in the past year than I ever did in my life. It was particular torture on the nights you'd stay over."

The man had never said a peep about it while dating. Her toes curled. "Want me bad, huh?"

"Yes, and it's becoming uncomfortable with this damn Foley."

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry, I forgot about that. Wrinkly, naked old men in thongs."

"Emma! Ugh, that's a visual I didn't want!"

She laughed. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I was looking forward to dreaming about you, but now naked old men are going to be running in the background." He sighed in disgust.

"Do you dream about me?" A smile bloomed.

"Dear Lord, sometimes it takes all my self-control to not take you during the night."

Goodness, that would be hot and romantic. "You exercise self-control too much sometimes."

"Don't poke the bear, sweetheart. Aren't you tired? It's almost one."

Looking around the room at the shadows dancing in the firelight, she held the pillow tighter. "It's creepy without you here."

"Love, the house is locked and Prince is in the room with you, isn't he?"

The dog actually slept on the bed, but Jason didn't need to know that. "Yeah."

"You're safe, love. Try to sleep so you don't get ill. Do you want me to stay on, or is it just keeping you up?"

She swallowed hard. "The nightmares are worse when you're not here."

"Then you call me. Love, I honestly think you're so exhausted you won't remember your dreams. You look like you've lost weight too. You need a good bed for some sound sleep. As soon as you wake up, you can come back to the hospital. It'll be alright." It obviously tore out his heart to not be here.

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. Call me if you have a bad dream. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Go to sleep, Em. I'm right here."

The soft beep of his heart on the monitor filled the silence as he stayed on the line. And it was a comfort. Sleep came and the nightmares stayed away.

She woke up and glanced at the clock. Five in the morning. The phone had slipped off the pillow. She picked it up. His heartbeat still blipped. "Jason?" Sleep thickened her voice.

"I'm here, sweetheart. Did you have a nightmare?" He didn't sound tired.

"Have you been on the whole time?"

"I dozed here and there. I didn't want you to have a nightmare and be worried about calling me and waking me up."

Tears burned at his sweetness. "Thank you, Jay. This is going to be a massive cell phone bill."

"I don't care about the bill."

She smiled. "I should let you go so you can get some sleep too."

"Get some more sleep and then come back to me, Emma."

His sweetness twisted her heart. "I will. Call me if you get worse."

"I will. And Emma? Thank you for sticking through this. I know it's been hard. And this marriage so far hasn't been easy either."

"The best things are worth fighting for, Jay. It hasn't been any easier on you. We're going to get through everything. I love you."

"I love you too. See you soon, love."

"Bye, Jay." She hung up, needing him now more than before after his tender goodbye. Popping out of bed, she reloaded her suitcase with a smile.

She peeked in his room less than an hour later.

He sat up higher with a smile and turned off the TV. "Emma, it's only six." Aside from the five o'clock shadow peeking out from the bandages around his head and the oxygen cannula, he seemed like he had more energy.

Parking the suitcase in the corner, she smiled and then climbed in bed with him. "Still not asleep? I couldn't sleep much without you." She cuddled up on his chest.

His arms wrapped around and he reclined the bed to lie flat. "Em, this is so good." He sighed, the tension palpably melting from his muscles. The beeping of his heart on the monitor slowed and his breathing evened out. His blood pressure even dropped a bit and his oxygen level rose one percentage.

"You should tell me that you get so distressed." She nuzzled against his chest and stroked the hard muscles.

"Things are better when you're here." His hand drew slow, lazy strokes up and down her back. It didn't take long for his body to relax in sleep.

"They're better when you're here too," she whispered.


	39. Chapter 39

"I'm proud of you." She walked under his arm as he pushed the IV pole and started the third lap around the burn unit floor.

"I can't exactly take credit for antibiotics and a hyperbaric chamber." His speech came out a bit muddled.

Setting a hand on his chest over his dark green sweatshirt, she looked up at his half bandaged face. "I'm not talking about getting better - your body is doing that. I'm taking about how hard you're working with the speech therapist the past two weeks since surgery and you haven't argued one bit about the chamber treatments. I expected you to be stubborn."

He shrugged and looked ahead. "There's no sense in arguing when complying will get us out of here faster."

She rested her head against his chest. "The therapist says you're practicing more than you have to. I don't understand why you won't let me in the room during the speech therapy sessions, but you practice with me. There's no difference."

"There's plenty of difference - in the sessions I'm stumbling around trying to figure it out." His tone remained crisp, as if discussing battle tactics.

"I think you perceive it worse than it is. Your speech is a little different because of the surgery. The therapist agrees that your speech will improve as you adapt."

He snorted. "So much for the surgeon swearing he could repair my lip. The failed transplant only led to necrosis and a resection. It's worse than it was to start." Weeks ago he would've closed up and pushed her away - now he seemed to accept that furt her deformity wouldn't change how she felt about him.

"You would've needed resection anyways after it became infected when you got sick to your stomach. I still think you had the surgery because you have this strange notion I would like it done." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

Keeping his eye on the floor ahead, his hand tightened around her shoulder. "It would be nice to have real meals with you rather than eat like an animal. Or not kiss you like some drooling baboon - "

The dear man suffered moments of low self-esteem now and then, more so since losing more of his bottom lip. "Oh my, I think you need a pick-me-up." She steered him to the side of the hall out of the way of traffic and set her hands on his chest, rising onto her toes. It would be the first real kiss in two months since arriving at the hospital.

His eye widened and darted around the nurses' station and hall. "What, here?"

"Here." With a smile, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down. Her lips brushed over his and the tip of her tongue gave a tiny stroke against his bottom lip, not caring who witnessed.

Although he didn't kiss back, his arms wrapped around and held her close against his chest.

"We aren't going down that road again, Jason," she whispered against his mouth. Him holding back would only lead to imaginary trust issues. Taking his hand, she pulled him to his room and softly closed the door.

"What are you doing?" He backed up to the bed when she set a hand on his chest.

"Seducing you." She pushed and he sat down.

"Have fun with that," he snorted in disgust. "I wouldn't wish to be you - " A gasp of surprised pleasure escaped him when she stroked through the sweatpants. His hands clutched her upper arms as his body snapped to attention.

Then she tugged up his sweatshirt, careful to get it over the bandages. She climbed on his lap as he leaned back against the pillows with a wary eye. "Hush the thoughts in your head, husband. I think you're beautiful." Straddling his lap, she kissed his bullet scar that had healed with minimal hypertrophic scarring. And then his shoulder burn that had stopped peeling but healed without any scar improvement. "You know, one good thing about being in the burn unit is," she said between sprinkling kisses over his chest, "he has you on a high-protein diet, so you put on the weight you originally lost and haven't lost muscle mass." Her hands glided over the hills of his large shoulders. He didn't move or comment. She sat back and stroked his cheek. "Talk to me, Jay."

That blue eye grew dimmer every day. "He said three weeks originally. It's been more than that. He won't answer anymore when I can leave."

Jason hadn't seen the wounds that had shed more dead skin and took their time healing - he still looked like a skinned-alive victim, although less bloody than before. He didn't know that the doctor had said a few days ago that the healing was going slower than originally expected and it would be at least two more weeks, possibly another month in the hospital. Taking a deep breath, she searched his gaze. The now once daily bandage changes proved to be just as painful yet, and he seemed to struggle more every day against the typical hospital depression. There was no easy way to break it to him. She swallowed hard. He'd take the news hard. "The healing is going a bit slower than expected."

Despair filled his eye.

She set her hand over his. "Some tissue death is still occurring that the doctor didn't expect this far out. What is healing is responding well to the silicone gel bandages. If things go well, maybe two more weeks and you can go home."

He pulled his hand away.

"I'll stay with you - "

"When did he tell you this?" The ice in his voice matched the coldness of his glare. Betrayal burned in his eye.

Her heart slowed. "I shouldn't have kept it from you, but I thought maybe if a few more days passed then it would be that many less days - "

"When?" he growled.

With a heavy heart, the guilt crept forward. "Two days ago." He would see it as betrayal and pull away, perhaps even succumb to the depression that threatened him daily.

His gaze dropped to his lap. The silence was worse than an argument.

"Jason, I wasn't sure what to do. You're having a hard time being here, and I thought that if maybe I could push it off for a bit longer, it would be less time left when you found out - "

"So you were trying to trick me, hoping I'd lose track of days." His eye met hers.

"No, not trick you." Her heart beat faster and she reached for his hand. "I - "

He pulled his hand back. "You're the one I trusted to be honest." Hurt so deep made his tone flat. "What else has been a lie?"

She blinked. "What? Nothing! Jason - "

Without much effort, he stood and set her to her feet. Then he took a step back. "I think you need to go."

Her heart stopped for a split instant. Then she folded her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry I _omitted_ that information for a couple days, but I did not lie about anything. I will go for a few minutes so you can process this, but I'm not leaving."

She walked down the hall and pulled out her cell phone. The hospital was far too depressing and oppressing, and it had to be far worse for him. He responded well to music, which she hadn't thought to turn on for him. And dancing. The nurse would give the strong pain meds a half hour before the bandage changes in the morning; otherwise, the over-the-counter pain meds didn't make him groggy. Flipping through songs on the Internet, she finally found one. He'd been alone for ten minutes - enough time to cool down and talk.

He sat on the edge of the bed like a man without hope - his shoulders slumped and head hung.

"May I come in?" She waited in the doorway.

The man just shrugged.

Walking over and squatting down, she set her hands on his knees and looked up. "I'm sorry."

His arms reached out and he pulled her into his lap. "I can't stand it here anymore, Emma. Don't make me stay," he whispered and buried his face against her neck.

Her heart twisted and she held him tight. "I asked about a nurse being able to come daily to the house, but the doctor said you need to be in the hospital a bit longer first." She sat back, the broken-hearted look on his face enough to cloud the sun. "Is it just saline in the IV?"

"The IV?" He blinked and then nodded.

Holding a finger to her lips with a smile for him to be quiet, she capped off the IV in his hand. "Just for five minutes. Do it like this, right?"

He cocked his head. "Um, yes."

Then she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. With a grin, she quietly closed the door and walked over to the bed. She leaned into it to push it against the wall for dancing, but the thing wouldn't move. When he stepped over to help, she held a hand out. "You aren't supposed to do anything strenuous," she panted.

The man pushed with one hand and the bed rolled over to the wall.

Her jaw dropped and she spun around to him.

A big smile brightened his face. "I'm really strong."

She blinked, her heart fluttering.

His smile grew. "The brakes were on the bed, Emma." He walked over to te bed and kicked the lock back on the rolling wheels. His laugh mingled with hers.

"Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants." She pulled out her phone and turned on Better When I'm Dancing by Meghan Trainer.

That beautiful blue eye lit up.

"Are you dizzy or anything?"

He just smiled and grabbed her hand, pulling her against his chest. "Do you know how to salsa dance?"

"I have a feeling you're going to teach me," she giggled.

In the next breath, he started moving. Something about the way he moved made it easy to pick up on new steps. Perhaps it was the way he kept her close and his movements flowed up from his feet to where she touched his shoulder and held his hand. Or maybe it was magic. He flung her out in a spin and drew her back in, gradually picking up the rhythm to match the beat.

She laughed, her feet flying with his and somehow not tripping as he whirled her around the small space. Her heart pounded keeping up with his energy. Near the end of the song, he spun her in against his chest, his heart beating just as fast. But instead of spinning her out, he leaned her back over his arm in a slow, romantic dip and kissed her neck. A hot tongue gave a single lap over the pulse in her throat, stealing her breath.

He slowly uprighted her, his breath mingling with her soft pants and his forehead resting against hers. "I'm sorry I got angry," he whispered. And then he captured her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips.

It was instinct to kiss him. Her arms wrapped around his middle and she let him in, allowing him to set the boundaries of what didn't hurt his face.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

Needing no further encouragement, she cupped the left side of his bandaged face and stroked his tongue with hers, easing into his mouth so maybe it wouldn't hurt him to not having to open as wide. The flame of passion lapped to a blazing fire within moments. Her hands roamed his bare chest, drinking in the power of him. He cupped her bottom against his hips and his other hand kneaded her breast in a glorious massage.

"Alright, Casanova," a female voice cut in.

She startled as hard as him and spun around. Apparently the music had ended.

The older female nurse did not look pleased. She marched over and moved the bed back in place. "Get in bed. Who said you could take apart the IV? I outta - " The woman reamed him out.

He didn't appear to hear a single word of it. The smile didn't leave his face as his eye remained on her while he sat on the bed and let the nurse reconnect the IV.

A flush crept up her cheeks from his intense, intimate gaze. If he'd been at home, his look left little doubt that he'd be taking her to the bedroom right now. He looked so incredibly happy.

* * *

Something in him took a turn after that, and the pain, although still intense at times, seemed to be more bearable for him. The depression seemed to remain at bay as the next day she ran home and brought back some books to read to each other and a chess set. The following morning she ran home to get some movies for a 'date' that afternoon. Her absence in the mornings seemed to give him something to look forward to when she returned after lunch.

The third day, she didn't get home until the afternoon. It wasn't until early evening that she got back to the hospital with the suitcase reloaded. She smoothed the fluttering skirt of the sleeveless red dress. Maybe it was too much with the strappy black heels, dangling red earrings, and her hair piled up for a dance date. He still wasn't cleared for anything too strenuous, so one or two dances was his limit so he wouldn't overheat the wounds. The man deserved a fun date, no matter how short.

When she walked past Kevin, the male nurse, he whistled. "He's gonna make all the guys jealous."

With an embarrassed smile, she walked past the nurses' station and left the suitcase just outside of Jason's doorway. Leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, she set a hand on her hip.

Jason sat in bed wearing jeans and a sweater, the stubborn man refusing to wear a hospital gown since his shoulder healed. He'd even convinced the nurses to let him go with just the IV port instead of being hooked up to the IV line. He read the newspaper.

"Whatcha doing tonight, sexy?"

His head flew up in surprise with a wide eye. Then he smiled when he saw it was her. His eye perused up her body. "I died and went to Heaven, didn't I?" Easing up from the bed in one fluid motion, he tossed aside the newspaper and crossed the room. He stopped toe-to-toe, his gaze locking with obvious desire.

A shiver of delight ran up her spine, and she bit her lip in a shy smile. "I thought maybe a date is overdue."

He said not a word, his eye stripping away her every wall.

She swallowed as her heart beat faster and knees grew weak. He was so sexy and mysterious when he wanted her but didn't say anything.

The back of his forefinger caressed her cheek. "You're flushed," he stated, his voice vibrating deep and caramel-smooth with lust.

"And you know exactly why." The heat in her cheeks and belly grew too intense, so she stepped forward to slip past him.

But his strong arm caught her around the waist and he took a step closer, leaning in to breathe against her ear, "I love when you work up the courage to initiate intimacy, and then your innocence comes out and makes you so shy all of the sudden. It melts my heart."

Her eyes flew up to his.

His hand glided up her waist, and his other hand slipped into hers and raised her arm in a waltz hold. In the next breath, his body moved and swept her along in a tender dance. Not once did he look away from her soul.

Silence filled the room, but she heard the same graceful notes as him that floated through the air. So much beauty hid within this man who swept away her heart more every day. "I love you."

"I love you, Emma. So very much." Then his steps slowed to a stop. His head bowed in a tender, romantic kiss that left her heart aching for more. Much more.

* * *

A few nights later, she woke up to his cell phone ringing on the bed tray. Poor Jason slept like the dead crammed on his side in the hospital bed with her. Sitting up, she reached over him and frowned when she picked up the phone. Trudy's number glowed on the screen at one o'clock in the morning. "Trudy? Is everything alright?"

"Dr. Port. I n,need to t,talk to him," Trudy sobbed.

She glanced at Jason and adrenaline chased away all the sleepiness. "He's sleeping. What's wrong, Trudy? Are you hurt?"

"D, Dr. Port. Get him." The sobs made her words almost incomprehensible.

"Jason." She shook his shoulder. "Jason, Trudy's on the phone crying."

He stirred. "Hm?" The poor man ran a hand over the unbandaged side of his face to wake up.

"Trudy's on the phone. She's sobbing but won't say what's wrong. She wants to talk to you."

When she held the phone, he leaned up on his elbow and his brow furrowed under the dim overhead lights. The poor thing looked exhausted. "Speak louder, Em. I don't have the hearing device in." The moment she repeated it louder, he grabbed the phone and appeared awake all of the sudden. "What's wrong?" He turned up the volume and sat up. "Trudy, Trudy, slow down."

She bit her lip and set a hand on his back. He'd never been so informal with Trudy. Something had to be terribly wrong.

"Listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. It was caught early...I know they don't have money. She'll get the best treatment - tell them don't worry about finances...Yes, the Foundation. Have them send the records to this number. Ready?" He hung up a couple minutes later after calming down Trudy.

"What's wrong?"

He dialed on the cell. "Her niece is in the ER after a fainting episode. The physician ended up doing an Echo and found a mass in the heart."

Her eyes widened. "Cancer?"

"That's what he thinks, but cardiac cancer is very rare, much more so in peds. I suspect it's more likely a rhabdomyoma or fibroma." Then he cut off when whoever he called answered. "Zach, it's Jason Port...Yes, it's late here, but I figured you'd be up being in Hawaii. I have a favor. A friend's niece is in ER right now from a fainting episode. Apparently the attending is diagnosis based on Echo that it's an oncology case...my thoughts exactly. If I can get her to the Foundation in two days, would you be able to do a consult?...Excellent. I appreciate it. The records will be there..." Then his voice changed from business to a bit more conversational. "Yes, I am, unfortunately. I should be out of here in a couple weeks. Ms. Williamson has been passing along urgent messages to me now that I'm off those awful narcotics and can think straight again. Is everything alright on your end?...Good. Call me if you need anything for this case. Thank you."

He hung up and dialed another number. "Ms. Van Hoodie, have Stevens arrange for the jet to take your niece and family to the Foundation tomorrow night. I have a peds cardiologist lined up to see her the following day - the office will call with an appointment time. It's jumping the gun to go directly to oncology yet. The Foundation will pay for more tests and any treatment...You're welcome...No, it's fine that you called me. Take some time off and go with them, or go to Minnesota and take care of the other children while your sister and brother-in-law are in California with your niece. I don't want you back home for at least a week...No, I insist...Emma and I will be fine. Good luck and call if you need anything." He hung up and immediately yawned as he set down the phone.

"What are those tumors that you think it is?" Her heart beat fast. Any family of Trudy's was his too, thereby her own. At least Jason didn't seem overly concerned.

"They're not cancer. They'll run tests and see." He laid back down and didn't elaborate.

She looked down at him turning on his side. "You're not explaining because they're not good."

With a sigh, he sat back up. "We don't know anything yet, and speculation is only speculation. Rhabdomyoma is the most common in children for cardiac tumors. In fifty to eighty percent of cases, it's tied to tuberous sclerosis, which is good because most of the cardiac tumors resolve on their own; however, these children tend to get tumors in the brain and other organs. Fibromas are single tumors, typically in the left ventricular free wall."

"So, she'll need heart surgery if it's a fibroma?"

"It's hard to say. It depends if this fainting was actually caused by the fibroma. It could've been something as simple as she cut her finger, saw blood, and hit the floor. If either tumor affects cardiac function enough, she'll need surgery. With fibroma, there's always the risk that even complete excision will result in regrowth of the tumor. There's nothing we can do about it tonight. Go to sleep, Em." He laid down and pulled her down too.

"Will you look at the test results too?" She bit her lip, her stomach in knots for Trudy's family.

"If the parents want me to, but I've been out of practice for years and am not a peds specialist." He closed his eye and draped an arm over her hip.

"But you know enough to tell if the doctor is treating appropriately."

A smile tugged at his lips, but he didn't open his eye. "That's like asking a child to double check Einstein's math. This cardiac surgeon is one of the best in the world."

"You could be one of the best too. You're certainly intelligent enough." Her voice softened. He probably wouldn't want to hear this. "I looked it up, and there are surgeons who are blind in one eye."

His eye opened and he didn't look too pleased.

"You don't have to do surgeries, but that doesn't mean you can't practice. You have a passion for it, but you sit back and _run_ the Foundation when it's so obvious you want to be _doing_ it."

"That's enough. We've had this conversation before, and we will not have it again." He'd rarely ever spoken so sharply to her. But he did it because he thought his dreams had gone up in flames in the fire.

She laid down, not letting his glare intimidate. "Don't not do something because you think you can't. I want you to do what makes you happy, Jay. I know you could be a fetal cardiologist like you wanted; you just have to believe it too." Then she curled up against him before he could bite her head off and left those words to sink into him.

A couple days later, she returned from a trip home for a fresh suitcase of clothes. Jason sat cross-legged in the bed looking mighty irritated when she walked in. "What's wrong?"

"Hit the button under the bed. I can't reach it."

She frowned and squatted down to where he pointed. "What is it?"

"Just hit it."

Standing up, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Tell me what it is first." Her gut said that he'd gotten into trouble when he avoided the question.

"Just a button. Just push it, Emma." He scowled when she didn't move.

Turning around, she walked out to the nurses' desk. The male nurse sat at the station. "Kevin, he wants me to push a button under the bed. What is it for? He won't say."

Kevin looked up, his expression irritated too. "A bed alarm. He decided to go for a stroll...to the pharmacy three floors down."

Her mouth fell open. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did. We had a hospital-wide alert looking for a missing patient. The unit is in trouble for losing a patient and I have to write up a safety incident report. I told him that if he tries it again, he gets restraints."

"Sorry, he's not always a very good patient."

Kevin just snorted.

"Can I turn off the alarm if I'm in the room?"

"No."

Oh dear. Jason really had gotten himself in trouble this time. "Okay. I'll talk to him."

She went back in the room. "I hear you took a field trip, and no, I'm not turning off the bed alarm."

His lips pursed. "I'm perfectly capable of walking and am sick of this damn room. I came back within ten minutes."

"That's not the point. You of all people know patients cannot leave the floor." She folded her arms over her chest. "And don't do it again because Kevin said you get restraints next time."

He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked down at a bottle in his hands.

Sitting on the bed, she set a hand on his leg. "Why were you in the pharmacy, Jay?"

His eye searched her face and he held out the bottle.

Prenatal vitamins. Her eyes flew to his face.

"It's best to start taking them at least three months before getting pregnant. Not that we have to start trying in three months, but it doesn't do any harm to start taking them now."

A smile bloomed when she took the bottle. "Really? You want to try for a baby soon?"

"If you do. But not right away. Things have been so insane since we wed that it'd be nice if we had some time for us before we start getting ready for a baby."

She threw herself at him, sending him tumbling back on the bed. Pushing herself up on his chest as he laughed, she smiled and looked down at him. "I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Ms. Van Hoodie called."

Her smile faded. "Do they know what's wrong with her niece?"

"It turns out it wasn't a tumor but a calcium deposit that presented as a tumor. The surgeon removed it with a tiny incision and went in through a vein. She's due to go home tomorrow. A freak thing but she should be completely fine."

Her jaw dropped. "That's it? She's done and fine?"

"That's it. Ms. Van Hoodie was ecstatic, to say the least." He smiled.

"Oh my goodness, that's wonderful!" She crushed him in another hug. "That's so good you sent her to him." When he just hugged and didn't comment further, she pulled back to look at him.

His face grew pink. "Are you hungry for lunch?" Then he sat up, easing her up off of him.

She stared. "You figured it out."

"Anyone can read test results, Emma." He adjusted the pillows at his back without making eye contact.

"And many idiots make wrong diagnoses from them too."

"I simply pointed out to the surgeon that I had an adult patient with similar test results and it turned out to be a calcium deposit, and he should rule that out before moving forward with a tumor diagnosis." He sat back against the pillows.

"What a brilliant husband I have." She pecked a kiss on his lips. But when she pulled back, his hand caught the back of her neck to keep her there.

"If life had been different, I probably would've gone into fetal cardiology. But I don't want to anymore, Emma. With my job in research and at the Foundation, it means I get to be home so much more with you and the children. I wouldn't trade that because being a father and a husband are the best jobs I could ever want." That vibrant blue eye searched hers.

With a nod, she wrapped her fingers around his forearm. "I know practicing medicine in a clinic or hospital would mean you'd be gone a lot more. I don't want you gone that much, but I want what makes you happy."

"You make me happy, Emma." Then he brushed a kiss over her lips.

* * *

Her stomach cramped and churned. It'd been two months of treatments and bandage changes and pain and stress and a failed surgery. Jason had exercised so much trust in letting her be present for the bandage changes when he hadn't even seen the wounds himself yet since being hospitalized.

He sat on the bed against the pillows, so tense his muscles might break his own bones.

The doctor removed the bandages, the changes not as painful for Jason anymore.

Her heart twisted, just like every day. Despite the methods to keep the scars from hypertrophying, they were indeed worse than before. The flesh was just as thick and hard this time, but the hills and valleys protruded far more. His lip had been resected farther to the center of his mouth, as well as farther to the corner. Meals had become a bit more of a challenge for him to eat, but the speech therapist had helped him figure out little tricks to help it not be so difficult. If people hadn't recoiled from his face before, the exposed teeth and missing lip would make them now.

She held out a hand to stop the nurse when the woman started to hand him a mirror. "Jay?" Taking his hands, she held tight. "The scars are more pronounced - they're more textured and still red yet from healing. Your bottom lip is almost completely gone on the right side."

His eye slipped away and humiliation crept across his face.

"Hey." Holding his hands tighter, she ducked her head to catch his gaze. "I love you. I've seen the scars daily and I haven't pulled away, right?"

A worried blue eye looked back at her. "Do I ph-righten you?" The loss of more lip worsened the lisp and made it a bit harder for him to even form words. 'F's, in particular, proved impossible for him to say without a severe lisp. His heart pounded against his shirt, visibly moving the material.

The racing of her heart hurt from the force, from being so worried how he would take seeing his face. "You do not frighten me. Do you believe me?"

He dove into her heart and searched every corner, as if needing to brace for her revulsion.

Squeezing his hands and not looking away, she searched his heart just as much. "I've watched you healing, and I'm looking at you right now. I have witnessed you overcome so much. Perhaps the old scars gave me pause at one time, but they don't represent fear and gore and pain. I see a man I love who is so beautifully strong."

The nurse handed him the hand mirror. He took it, his hands shaking so hard it would be hard to see anything in the mirror.

Her hands wrapped around his to steady him. "It's alright, Jay. You don't have to look if you aren't ready."

He swallowed hard. "I want to know what you see." His voice shook.

"A rose is blind, Jay," she repeated Trudy's words of wisdom.

Without a word of response, he drew a deep, shaky breath and lifted the mirror. He looked for no more than a split second and then lowered the mirror just as fast, turning his face to the right to hide the scars from her. His chest heaved but he otherwise remained frozen.

"The redness will fade," the doctor stated. "It - "

"Cover it up. Don't make her look at that," he ordered, his voice hard and angry.

She looked up at the doctor and nurse on each side of the bed. The doctor nodded in understanding that Jason needed a moment alone with her and took the nurse out with him and shut the door.

"Jason." She reached for the mirror to take it away. "It's still fresh - "

He hurled the mirror down on the floor, shattering it in dozens of pieces. And then he didn't move or say a word beyond his chest heaving in rage.

She sat in silence, letting him process the anger and reality that modern medicine hadn't been able to help him even as much as a few years ago. The disappointment and anger and insecurities would unleash in a moment. The longer they took to build, the worse his pain would be.

"You feared me when I looked like a beast. In your worst nightmares, did you ever imagine being chained to a monster?" So much self-hatred filled his tone.

There was only one chance to say the right thing. How hard this road would be for him rested on her next words. The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders. This was the same moment that Carolyn had shattered him.

Taking his hand, she sat in silence for a moment to let the physical contact sink in.

His eye flicked to her for a moment. "Too disgusted for a reply?"

"Too lost in Carolyn's shadow to know what to say."

That got his attention - he looked from the corner of his eye, his expression less angry and more uncertain.

"I have tried every way I know how to prove to you that I don't see what you see. For two months I have sat with you through every bandage change, every test, every chamber treatment, the lip surgery...I have seen every day what you see now. I have not waivered, have I? What have I done wrong that now, when you're going home soon, I have suddenly lost all the faith you had in me? Tell me what I did wrong that everything we've overcome shattered as easily as that mirror."

The anger fled his face to be replaced with grief. "You did nothing wrong." He swallowed hard. "I know you've said over the weeks that it wasn't healing smooth and..." What was left of his lower lip quivered. "I kept telling myself you were exaggerating because it would seem so much less worse when I saw it. God, this is less of a face than before, Emma. How can I ask you to look at this every day? How will I not frighten you during the night? How will I not terrify the children? This was supposed to be a second chance to make it better. But all it did was create more of a monster." Tears shimmered in his eye and slipped down his cheek.

All this time he'd harbored hope for what could not be. It's why he'd let her see before he had all these weeks - he'd thought she was witnessing it getting better and chasing away her old fears. The heartbreak vibrated from him in tidal waves, so crushing that it hurt to breathe. "It did not create a monster." She wrapped her arms around him. "It brought us closer, Jason." Her voice broke. "You have trusted me so much these past weeks. Don't take that away."

He pulled her closer, cradling her head on his left shoulder. "Don't leave me, Emma," he whispered and buried his face against her neck. "This was the beginning of the end last time. Everyone and everything I had."

His world teetered on this moment. Every single piece of his life had hung on this thread with Carolyn nearly five years ago. It had been the moment his world had collapsed - the moment he and Carolyn had seen his face for the first time...this moment.

Pulling back just enough, she closed her eyes and brushed her lips over his. The lack of so much bottom lip made it a bit difficult to kiss him, so she tilted her head to the left. It was like kissing him for the first time, the feel and rhythm unfamiliar, although his taste was like home.

He started to pull away when his bared teeth lightly clunked hers.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Without the bandages. Just you. It's been months since it's been just you. I've missed you so much, Jay." An aching hole had grown in her chest from not having that raw physical intimacy, that bond of all his walls being torn down and leaving his bare soul to touch.

Those words halted him. But they weren't enough to bring him back.

Her heart deflated and fluttered to the floor. Opening her eyes, she looked down where his hand pulled out of hers. His walls were erecting higher. Everything blurred as tears welled. He didn't want to be touched. Her throat constricted and she scooted back out of his lap. It wasn't right to force him, no matter how much pain it caused her to let him have the space he needed...the space maybe he'd need forever. "I love you no matter - "

He suddenly leaned forward and captured her mouth in a kiss.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Then his hands cupped her face as he began to lie back.

The beating of her heart sped up as he gave her wings. She closed her eyes and leaned onto her hands and knees to follow him.

He let go of her face and wrapped his long fingers around her upper arms as he laid back. His arms curled around her back to ease her down on his chest as he deepened the kiss. When he tilted his head the same direction as her to try to compensate for his lip, his nose lightly bumped hers. What would've caused him to shut down weeks ago, elicited a soft chuckle now. The tips of his fingers held her chin still as he tried again.

She smiled, causing his bared teeth to bump hers. With a giggle, she opened her eyes.

Something in his gaze had changed. There was light instead of darkness. "It's not every day a man gets to kiss his wife for the first time again like a gangly teenager." A sliver of self-consciousness tinted his tone.

"And how sweet it is to be his first kiss," she whispered and rubbed the tip of her nose against his with a smile.

Self-consciousness fled his eye. The right side of his face remained forever frozen, but the muscles on the left side contracted. And a wonderful smile bloomed across his beautiful face.


	40. Chapter 40

Saturday morning - a perfect day for being discharged from the hospital. The summer sun shined bright and marshmallow clouds dotted the sky as the squirrels ran across the vibrant green grass in the courtyard. But Jason didn't seem to notice one bit from being wound so tight that he cut everyone's heads off all morning.

"I don't need a damn wheelchair to leave," he barked at the nurse from where he sat on the edge of the bed wearing black pants and a white dress shirt.

"It's hospital policy for liability. The candy striper will bring one up in just a few minutes." The nurse finished removing the IV port.

His shoulders tensed and fingers drummed against the bed in anxiety. The moment the nurse put a bandage on his hand, he zoomed straight for the door.

She darted forward and blocked him at the doorway. Setting a hand on his chest, she planted her feet and looked up at him, even though his eye focused over her head out the door. "Jay, take it easy. I promise they won't readmit you. Just a few more minutes. I have to grab my suitcase and purse anyways. Wait a minute for me, alright?" He'd stay if it was to wait for her.

He growled but didn't leave, shifting his feet and fidgeting in irritation.

She checked that she had everything, more to buy time for the wheelchair to come than to triple check her purse again.

"Emma, it doesn't take that long." He marched over, swiped the suitcase off the bed, and headed for the door again.

"Jason! You aren't supposed to carry anything yet!" She grabbed her purse and rushed after him.

"Hurry up, or I'll haul you over my shoulder too." He didn't break pace down the hall.

"Dr. Port!" The nurse charged after him.

She planted herself in his path, forcing him to stop or plow her over. "Stop behaving like a two year old." Jerking the suitcase from him, she wasn't prepared for how heavy it would be. It crushed down on her foot. Pain exploded through her toes. "Ow! God bless it!" she hissed and drew deep breaths through the pain as she grabbed his arm for support.

"Emma, I'm so sorry. I wasn't ready for you to take it." He dropped to his knee and pulled off her slip-on shoe. "Can you move your toes?" Worry and remorse colored his voice.

"I'm fine," she ground out against the throbbing and pulled her foot away.

"No, you're not." He stood and reached to scoop her up.

She swatted his shoulder. "Don't pick anything up! Get back in the room, and don't argue with me," she snapped. Dear heaven, every heartbeat made her foot throb.

He straightened, guilt written in every line of his face. "I'm sorry. Let me help." Then he slipped an arm around and took her hand as he helped her limp back to the room. He ignored the two nurses who followed and scolded for leaving. "Someone get ice," he ordered.

"It's feeling better. I think it just hurt for a minute from the weight slamming." She sat on his bed.

"Maybe we should go to ER. There are so many fragile bones in a foot that one of them could be broken." He knelt and examined it. "Can you wiggle your toes? Any pain?"

"It's fine." She wiggled them without much discomfort. "I think it's just bruising." The blue discoloration already showing up might be a good way to guilt him into behaving the rest of the morning.

"Are you certain?" He looked up, his brow wrinkled with worry. "It might be best to just get it checked."

"I'm fine." She pulled her foot away and slipped on her shoe, the toes still a bit tender as she stood.

He held out a hand to help. "If they still hurt tomorrow, you're getting x-rayed."

Giving him a look, she mumbled, "Uh huh, Mr. Dig-the-bullet-out."

Before he could reply, the nurse brought in ice. The man lifted her onto the bed again without any effort and eased the ice on her foot with care.

Her mouth fell open. "What did I just tell you about lifting things?! Ugh! I swear, I'm gonna wring your neck before the end of the weekend." She huffed and bent her leg up to her chest for a better angle with the ice.

"There's no reason for weight restrictions. I'm a doctor - "

"And a bullheaded idiot," she finished. The man just blinked in surprise. "Here are the rules."

He crossed his arms over his chest and his eye narrowed as he opened his mouth.

"No lifting anything," she cut him off before he could protest. "No exercising until the doctor says." She held up a finger when he started to interject. "No arguing that you're a doctor either - being a doctor to yourself doesn't count, and you'll just say you can do whatever you want. A home nurse is coming every day, and you will listen to her."

His eyebrow shot up. That last part was news to him. "Like hell a nurse is! If - "

"Or the doctor said you have to stay in the hospital another two weeks," she finished.

His jaw dropped. "That was not the plan when he said yesterday I get to leave! I agreed to the speech therapist coming in twice a week, but there was _no_ mention of a home nurse!"

"Because you would've had a fit."

His mouth pulled in a tight line.

"I'm not dealing with a stubborn man for two weeks who will cause himself problems arguing about treatment. You comply or you don't. If you don't, you'll be right back here." All he did the last twenty-four hours was argue everything to try to get out of the hospital sooner.

That blue eye pierced with a temper. "I'm fully capacitated for accepting or declining treatment. A nurse will not be coming in the house, and I will not be staying another hour in this hospital." He pointed a finger at the floor, his iron tone left no room for argument.

Heaving a sigh, she ran a hand over her face. The man grew more and more argumentative eACH minute closer to discharge. "Jason, a nurse has to come in for the daily bandage changes and make sure everything looks fine. The wounds are still somewhat raw - "

"You're not going to help anymore?" The words came out soft, all the arguing gone from his voice.

She looked up. "Of course I'm going to still help."

"Then why does a nurse have to come? You can say if you don't want to do it anymore. You're not obligated, and you've put in more than what is fair to ask of you." Sadness snuff the fight out of him.

It seemed to mean a lot to him that she continue to be part of his care. The irritation and frustration over the conversation died down. "I'm still going to help, Jay. Did you think I was just going to turn you over to a nurse?"

He sat down on the bed beside her. "I don't want to assume, and it's not fair to ask you to do more than you have."

She took his hand. "Jay, just because you're not in the hospital doesn't mean I won't help. I've helped every other time you've been hurt or sick."

He looked down at her hand and his throat convulsed. "Other times haven't been for weeks and weeks of intense care. I don't want to be a burden. This will become more and more of our life with age." His confidence, so fragile lately, curled in on itself. "I don't want to make you become a caregiver."

She squeezed his hand. "Honey, the doctors all agree that this with your face was some freak fluke. If we keep on top of care and any ulcers, we won't have hospital stays like this again. It's taving care of a spouse, not being a caregiver. Even if something becomes chronic, we talk and make sure we're both comfortable with whatever role I have in your care. I'm never going to be completely removed, though, because I love you and want to help. If something really bad happened to me, I think you'd probably take on the primary care role."

"Yes, but that's different."

"No, it's not. What is this underlying question that I sense you have?"

The dear man looked down at her lap, leaning his hands on the edge of the bed. "I don't know that it's right to ask it of you."

"Try me." She set a hand on his back, the poor thing seeming so hesitant.

He swallowed hard, the self-consciousness palpable. "Instead of a nurse coming every day for the bandage changes, would..." Guilt seemed to stop him.

"Would I do the changes?" She bowed her head to catch his eye.

He looked at her. "That's not fair to make you feel obligated, is it?" The man stood with a nervous smile, this uncertain demeanor becoming more and more his norm. "It's bad enough making you look at and kiss a deformed face without having to touch it too. My apologies, I shouldn't have brought it up." He turned and wandered to the window to stare out.

"Don't you want to hear my answer rather than the one you selected for me?" She cocked her head, the fact that he still felt so self-conscious after everything they'd been through was so hard to watch. Carolyn had left scars so terribly deep.

He shoved his hands in his pockets but didn't turn around. "I know what your answer is, which is why it is so unfair of me to bring it up." Turning, he looked at her with such sadness. "You would deny me nothing, but at what cost to yourself? Before coming to the hospital, my face bothered you. What if that comes back when we get home, back in those surroundings but with a more deformed man who lies beside you? You won't tell me if I cause you nightmares, and here I am asking you not only to look daily at what frightens you but to touch it." He shook his head. "It's selfish to even be having this conversation."

Getting up, she put aside the ice and walked over to him. She set her hands on his chest and searched his broken heart. "Do you understand what gave me hesitation before?"

"I do, but you were here to witness the gore this time and the scars are worse...it will be more frightening now." His brow furrowed with regret. "I shouldn't have let you stay. I shouldn't have let you see."

"Don't talk like that." She shook her head and stroked his cheek. "Not knowing frightened me. I know it was horribly painful this time and I think you tried to be tougher because I was here, but I..." Tears welled. "Jason, I thought that there'd be screaming and tying you down for bandage changes and horrid things. And then Carolyn left you all alone... I imagined it like some horrific insane asylum from the eighteen hundreds - that is what I saw when I looked at your face."

"Oh god, Emma, it was nothing like that. I didn't realize you thought that. No, it was a bit more painful than this time, but nothing like what you speak of." His arms wrapped around and cocooned her against his chest.

She hugged his torso, his steady heartbeat offering solace. "I know there was so much pain this time too, but I also saw you face it all with such strength and grace. I watched you healing - I saw you hurt less and less and get stronger. These scars don't give me hesitation. It's like you said that eventually I wouldn't see two separate faces, that the scars would just become you. Maybe it's coincidental timing or maybe it's because I was here with you through it, but I don't see torture anymore when I see the scars. I just see you."

He kissed the top of her head. "It damn near ripped my heart out when you wouldn't come to me without the mask, but I don't blame you if those feelings return. I can't even stomach looking at myself."

"Then I'd say you have a weak stomach, Dr. Port."

That earned a weak, single chuckle from him.

The nurse walked in with the wheelchair. "Ready?"

She looked up at him with a smile. "Let's go home, Jay."

Relief, joy, excitement, and a dozen other emotions crossed his face. His heart beat faster against her chest, and then his brow furrowed for a moment.

"What is it?"

That blue eye searched her face. "Last time, I went back to a run-down building in a town I didn't know built around a life that wasn't mine. I didn't feel anything but anxiety when I left the hospital, only to be met by loneliness once I left."

Tears welled at the grief he painted. "And now?" Let him not be afraid to go home this time, not be afraid that everything would fall apart.

"Now, I'm going to a house and friends and job...and a family." His voice grew thick and he looked down at her with such tenderness. "Now...I'm happy, Emma. Because this time I really am going home." A soft smile touch his lips.

Those words completely and utterly melted her heart.

* * *

His feet pressed against the floor of the car and he held her hand tight, his eye focused out his window as Pete pulled the car up to the house. He released a deep, shaky breath. Instead of shooting out of the car, he sat back and stared out the window. "I'm scared it's just a dream, Emma." His voice remained low and soft, as if afraid of waking himself from the dream. He set a hand against his pounding heart and squeezed her hand tighter, his eye not peeling away from the window opposite of her. "I've never been this excited to come home."

Never had it occurred he would experience so many new emotions simply pulling up the drive like he had so many times before. It was like a new life for him coming home this time. He'd probably never experienced such comfort and happiness as a child to have a happy place to come home to. There was something so humbling about witnessing him experience this. And so magical about being a part of something so special to him.

"Wait inside for me."

She blinked.

He turned his head and looked at her, emotion on the verge of overflowing. "I want to come home to you." A smile made a single tear of happiness fall from his eyelashes.

Her chest constricted, her own tears blurring everything as she cupped his cheek. Her - he wanted the center of all this joy, this new experience to be her. Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she sniffled and held in the tears of happiness for him. "It's real, Jay. I'll be waiting for you inside." She got out as Pete opened the car door. "He wants me to greet him inside," she said when he shut it.

Pete offered his arm, uncharacteristically escorting her up the steps. "He is so different since you, Emma. I'll make sure he gets to the door safe." Then he opened the front door for her and closed it when she stepped inside.

Her heart beat faster as she looked through the peep hole. He stepped out of the car and looked up at the house, as if seeing it for the first time. A smile straight from the heart lit up his face. Emotion closed up her throat. After so much pain and hardship not just the past weeks but in his entire life...he deserved this moment of such joy. She whipped open the door with a smile just as he reached the door.

He positively shined as she stood on her toes and flung her arms around his neck, burying the fingers of one hand in his hair and holding his shoulder tight with the other.

"Welcome home, Jay," she whispered, emotion robbing the strength from her voice.

"Emma," he breathed and buried his face in the crook of her neck as his arms wrapped around.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" a little voice shrieked from behind.

She jumped ten feet and whirled around, her heart in her throat.

A little girl about two years old with bouncy blonde curls stood in the middle of the foyer and screamed in terror. Trudy shot out of the kitchen and scooped up the sobbing child.

She looked from the girl to Jason in confusion.

He looked just as surprised. "And, this is...?" Jason's eyebrow rose.

Stress carved lines in poor Trudy's face. Multiple whisps of hair stuck out around Trudy's head from the usually tidy bun. "I'm sorry. My niece ran a tiny temp after the surgery, so they want to keep her two more days in the hospital just to be sure..." Trudy burst into tears. "Olivia just keeps crying for her mama all day. My sister said I could bring her here, so Pete brought us this morning. I thought being in a different house would distract and make it stop, don'tcha know." Trudy rushed out the words, bordering on tears herself.

Oh dear. Trudy and Olivia seemed far too overwhelmed.

He heaved a deep sigh and walked over to Trudy.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked - " Trudy burst into sobs as hard as the little girl.

"Go pull yourself together, Ms. Van Hoodie." He took the screaming child from Trudy.

She hurried over. "Jay, you shouldn't lift her," she said over the screaming girl.

Instead of handing over Olivia, he laid her little head on his chest over his heart and wrapped his arms around the child. "Shhh, it's alright, baby girl." He gently rocked her in his arms and hummed a slow, calm song.

Olivia's sobs slowed into hiccups after a moment. "Mama."

"I know, Mama will be back soon." He slowly walked the foyer with Olivia for several minutes.

"I can take her, Jason. You shouldn't carry her." She stepped forward.

"She hardly weighs anything. I'm fine." He continued walking and humming. The girl finally quieted and sucked her thumb. "Do you want to read a story? Should we have Emma come?"

Those chubby little arms tried to wrap around his neck as far as possible in possessiveness. "You read." Pretty blue eyes peeked over his shoulder. "That Emma?"

He turned and eased the little girl off to look. "Yes, that's Emma. Isn't she pretty?" He leaned his head down by little Olivia's.

At that moment, the two of them stole her heart. Then he gave Olivia a little jiggle, making Olivia smile as big as him. She pressed a hand to her heart, swallowing down the huge lump in her throat over the precious picture of Jason holding a child.

"She's pretty like you, little love. Go get Emma and we'll read a story." He set Olivia down.

The little girl continued sucking her thumb and toddled over, reaching up a pudgy little hand. "Book."

She took Olivia's hand and followed her over to Jason, who watched with a gentle smile.

He led the way to the library and plucked a book off the shelf without any contemplation. Then he held Olivia's other hand as they ascending the stairs, putting the little girl between them. When he glanced up, a longing look for a baby tinted in his eye. "You're taking those vitamins?"

"I am." A flush crept up her neck. "I think someone has baby fever."

No comment came forth, but he led the way to his room. "Shower before storytime, Em. You don't know what hospital diseases linger on our clothes."

"You go first and get comfortable. Do you need help so you don't get your face wet?" She picked up Olivia and followed him into the bedroom.

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "If she was asleep, I most certainly would need a great deal of help in the shower."

Her cheeks burned. "Behave. You'll have adequate help in a couple weeks when you're better."

Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he gave a mischevious look. He dropped his shirt on the bathroom floor in the corner and then put his watch on the dresser. "More like I had tonight in mind."

"You are not cleared for active duty, soldier." She threw him a saucy look.

Olivia squirmed out of her arms. "Naked! Naked!" The little princess waddled across the room toward Jason, ripping her sundress and underwear off.

He burst out belly laughing and scooped up Olivia in his arms. "I think you're a bit too old to shower with the opposite sex anymore, princess." The man carried over the baby, his gaze locking with hers. "Although, I wish another lady in the house would tear off her clothes like that," he purred, his look sending her up in smoke.

Before she could reply as she took the baby, Olivia set a tiny hand on his bandaged cheeked. "Owie?"

The smile left his face and he looked at Olivia in all seriousness. "Yes, it's an owie, love." His breath seemed to hang in what the little girl would do next, as if it might be some sign as to how any future babies might react.

Olivia leaned forward and planted a sloppy kiss on the bandage. Then she smiled, so proud of herself. "No owie."

A watery smile softened his eye. "No more owie," he whispered and kissed the top of Olivia's head. "You be a good girl for Emma. Do you have to go potty before I get a bath?"

"No potty! No!" Olivia swatted in his direction, as if to make him go.

"Olivia, no hit." She caught Olivia's flailing hand.

"No pottttttyyyyyy!" the girl shrieked in a tantrum. "No! No! Nooooo!" She flung her body.

Jason helped grab her so she wouldn't fall and lowered Olivia to the floor.

She looked at him with a wide eye as Olivia went into a full body tantrum. "It's alright, honey, no potty. It's okay." But the more she tried to console, the worse the screaming grew.

When he tried to pick her up, Olivia kicked and shrieked. "Olivia!" he barked in a stern voice.

"She's not a soldier, Jay."

"Do we wait and let her just scream it out?" He looked a bit lost.

"Why are you asking me? She's going to make herself throw up crying that hard, though." She laid down on her side on the floor. "Baby, don't cry. Shhhh. Do you want a bath? Are you hungry? Do you want milk, sweetie?" But the screams didn't stop.

"I think she's tired and stressed not being at home." He knelt and tried to wipe the river of tears on Olivia's soaked face.

"I'll go get her some crackers or something. Maybe she'll sleep with a full tummy." She got up and headed for the door.

"Emma!" he called.

She turned. Olivia waddled after her with her arms out, still sobbing. "Princess, it's okay." The moment she picked up Olivia, the little head rested on her chest as the sobs ran out of steam.

He washed his hands. "Why don't you wash her from touching our clothes while I get her some warm milk? Then maybe she'll nap with a story."

"But the tub is so big. What if she slips under? I've heard babies can drown in an inch of water." Panic surged. She didn't know anything about washing a baby.

"I don't know. Wash her in the sink. Er, she might hit her head on the faucet. Dammit, it can't be this hard having a baby. Um, shower with her. Just don't get all soapy and drop her." He headed out.

"What?! I'm not holding her in the shower! She'll crack her head open. Get one of Trudy's big cooking pans. Those look like baby tubs I've seen in the store."

He looked at her cross-eyed. "Those are for newborns. She wouldn't even fit. Just shower with her. I saw it in Three Men and a Baby."

"That's TV!"

"I don't exactly have a parenting book. She's probably old enough to notice I'm not female, or I'd shower with her. Besides, the scars might scare her. Just get in there and be careful."

Olivia started falling asleep in her arms in the shower, so she called for Jason as softly as possible.

He came into the bathroom with a towel and took Olivia as best he could in his dirty clothes. The fussing started again.

"I'm almost done, Jay."

He stood on the other side of the shower curtain as the fussing grew worse. "Emma's right there. It's alright, love."

A little head popped in at eye level. She yelped in surprise. "Jason! Cripes, don't pop her in like that. Give me a heart attack."

Olivia smiled and disappeared.

"Wherrrrrre's Emma?" he cooed. Then Olivia's head peeked in again. "There she is!"

The little girl laughed. The game was apparently just as amusing after twenty times as the first time.

She turned off the water and stepped out.

"Ooh, I think I like this game too," he grinned, his eye perusing up her bare body as she wrapped a towel around herself.

"Go wash." She rolled her eyes and took Olivia.

"Boo! Boo!" Olivia covered her eyes. The little forehead slammed against her breastbone to hide.

Her mouth fell open in pain from a very real bone bruising. She gulped in air that had gotten knocked out.

Jason winced. "Are you alright? I heard that echo." He stepped in the shower and his pants came out to add to the dirty laundry pile.

"Oh my god." She rubbed the aching bone. "I think she broke my ribs."

"Put some ice on it, sweetheart. That might've been hard enough to bruise." The water turned on.

"Don't sound so worried," she snorted.

He chuckled. "I am, but I think you're going to be more worried if she starts crying again."

Olivia started fussing and reaching for the shower curtain.

"No, love, not while he's in there." She used a fresh washcloth to hide behind to play peek-a-boo, but that didn't suffice.

Sitting on the bed, she grabbed the cup of milk and straw off the nightstand. "Here, princess." She reclined Olivia in her arm. The little darling took a sip, but coughed from getting too much at once - she needed a sippy cup rather than straw. Setting the milk on the nightstand, she walked Olivia in front of the warm fire Jason had started and fed her crackers instead. It didn't take long for the dear to fall asleep.

Blessed silence. Olivia looked so innocent when asleep. Who knew a toddler could make two adults run around like idiots. She stroked the feather-soft baby cheek. That little pink mouth parted in sound sleep. Beautiful gold lashes rested atop rosy cheeks that matched shoulder-length curly hair. As terrifying as it was not knowing what to do with a baby, holding her felt so right.

He stood in the bathroom doorway when she glanced up, wearing a fresh white shirt and pants with a tender look in his eye. "You look beautiful with a baby in your arms."

A flush crept up her cheeks. "You are a complete pushover for her, you know that?" She shook her head with a smile. "I cringe to think what you'll let your daughters get away with - you'll be wrapped around their fingers. My arms are getting tired. I don't know that we should set her on the bed - she might roll off."

He grabbed a spare blanket and folded it up for cushioning before laying it on the floor. "That will have to do." When she laid the baby down, he studied Olivia. "I wonder..." Then he knelt and felt the baby's stomach. Olivia whimpered in her sleep. "Oh my, you don't feel well, do you?"

"What's wrong?"

He sat back. "She's quite constipated. I suspect she gets upset going to the bathroom because she's learned it hurts." Then he got up and walked over to his medical bag in the corner and returned with a box. "Stay with her. I'm going to call her parents and the pediatrician to see if it's alright to give her a suppository. It's probably the gentlest method that will give her the fastest relief too."

* * *

Never in a thousand years would she have imagined sitting on the bathroom floor holding a toddler over the toilet and cheering with Jason.

"Good girl!" He cooed with a huge smile when Olivia looked ready to cry again.

"You're doing such a good job!" she cheered and clapped.

Jason shifted his hold on Olivia more to under her arms. "Em, rub her stomach in a horseshoe shape. What a big girl!" he cut himself off when Olivia's face scrunched up.

The poor little face turned red and she burst into tears when the medicine finally worked.

"Yaaay! Good girl! All done! No more potty!" He kissed the little blonde head as she wiped Olivia. "Is your tummy all better?"

The sweet little thing nodded, rubbing her fists against her teary eyes.

"I'm sorry, princess. You'll sleep better now. Potty won't hurt anymore." Another kiss. He was really wrapped tight around Olivia's little finger. "We'll give you some fruit and grains and yogurt for lunch. No more owie." He carried the little girl to the sink. "Wash your hands." He splashed the running water, causing Olivia to laugh and splash too. "Scrub, scrub, scrub. Make biiiig bubbles!" Those tiny arms were so much smaller that his hands scrubbed not just her hands but forearms too.

Olivia laughed. "Bubb! Bubb! Bubb!" Then her little face screwed up. "Potty! Potty!" She reached between her legs with a soapy hand, but Jason intercepted just in time.

"Okay, okay!" He rinsed her hands quick and held her over the toilet again.

Olivia's face grew bright red and she grunted. And that little face beamed with pride when a rude noise filled the room.

"What a good girl saying you had to go potty! Yaaaaay!" She clapped and cheered with Jason.

The little dear clapped those pudgy hands together too. "Good potty! Good potty!" she praised herself.

He leaned over and brushed a kiss on her lips, laughter filling his voice. "I don't think I'd want a potty party on a Saturday morning with anyone else, Em."

She laughed and returned the kiss. "Not exactly how I pictured your first day home."

"I don't know that it could've been more perfect." Then he planted a big kiss on Olivia's cheek. How quickly he'd fallen in love with the little girl.

* * *

She reclined on her side across the bed in lounge pants and a t-shirt, and he stretched out on the other side of the bed. Olivia slept in the middle. The crackling of the fire added a homey touch, chasing the chill from the air of the summer mountain weather.

"You're going to be a good dad, Jay. You're already so good with her."

He sighed. "I hope so. I have no idea what a father should be like. You'll be a good mother, but I have a feeling you're going to be calling the pediatrician twice a day." He chuckled.

She smiled. "No, that's why I married a doctor. I'll call him twice a day and you five."

"Oh, so then _I_ get to call him five times a day so I look like I know what I'm talking about to my wife?" He laughed.

With a roll of her eyes, she sat up. "You knew enough what to do with Olivia. We should changed your bandage - it probably got damp in the shower."

He lightly patted it. "It is a bit wet." He got up.

"When it's healed enough, I want you to be comfortable to walk around the house without a mask. Or, at least in the bedroom if you don't want to in front of Pete and Trudy." She searched his face.

"Perhaps one day." He grabbed his medical bag and took it in the bathroom.

She glanced at Olivia still sound asleep and then stepped in the bathroom doorway. "Come out here so I can do it and keep an eye on the baby."

He froze with a bandage pack in his hand and looked at her.

"Come. We already talked about me doing it." She glanced at Olivia again and then took a step back. With a naughty smile, she peeled off her t-shirt, leaving just undergarments and lounge pants. "Every minute I'll let you take something else off."

His eye lit up, and he snatched his bag. "You outdo yourself, Em." He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hands after she washed. His warm hands wrapped around her waist and guided her to straddle his lap.

"You just tug me around wherever you want," she protested with a smile but sat where he wanted.

"Cuz yer so small an' Ah love it, lass." Warm fingers drew a line straight down from her neck to stomach in a hungry caress.

A shiver ran throughout at his heavy burr and the sensual touch. "An accent and strong muscles won't leave me begging for you to manhandle me." She swept her hair over one shoulder and tilted her head. "Kiss my neck while I open this bandage."

He laughed. "No beggin', eh?" Then he nibbled her neck and groaned. "God bless America fer makin' a land o' saucy wenches."

She wrapped her legs around his hips as she replaced the bandages. A soft sigh escaped when he slipped off her bra and massaged her breasts while suckling her neck. Butterflies beat faster in her stomach as she finished placing the last dressing. The dear man seemed so engrossed that he didn't appear to notice any discomfort during the dressing change. "Jay," she sished as he made her body melt. She reached between her legs to find and give him pleasure.

But he caught her wrist and laid her hand on his shoulder.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she sighed as he nipped and teased the pulse at her throat. In fact, his mouth seemed a bit rough from being dry. She opened her eyes and pulled back. His lip wasn't even wet from having trouble swallowing fast enough with his head angled down. "Jason! Are you dehydrating yourself?!"

"Shhh! You'll wake the baby." He frowned and glanced at Olivia right behind him.

"Why in heaven's name are you doing that?" she gasped. "Your skin is still healing. Do you know what could happen if - "

"It's just enough so I'm not drooling like a rabid dog all over you. They didn't even notice at the hospital - it's not enough to technically be dehydrated." He frowned.

Her heart wrenched. "Jason, I don't understand you. What am I doing that makes you so ashamed? That would make you dehydrate yourself."

He shook his head and his gaze dropped in shame, not saying a word for several moments. "I can't kiss you like I used to, Emma," he whispered. His brow knit and lips pressed together, his humiliation cutting through the silence. "Before, I had trouble with needing to wipe my mouth often. Now, I...I constantly drool, Emma." His voice quivered. "I'm unintelligible now without a bandage or mask. You used to just soak it up when I'd kiss you in the dark without a mask. I can't do that anymore. I never thought I'd wish to be what I was three months ago." Tears shimmered in his eye.

She wrapped her arms around him. "We'll figure this out. Just because you're home now doesn't mean everything is going to magically be better. You still have a lot of healing to do yet, and you've only been working with the speech therapist for a couple weeks. Be patient, Jay. We'll figure out how to be intimate again." She stroked his cheek. "We've only been married almost six months, honey, with more than half of those in the hospital and figuring out if you're CEO, dealing with my past... Now it's time for us to just be us, to enjoy being married." She sat back and cupped his freshly shaven cheek, searching his eye. "Think of this as us just getting back from Scotland and just starting to settle into our life now. We take it day by day and make the best of it."

Something still clouded his eye. There had to be more to this - he didn't usually rehash conversations again hours later. She sat in his lap, but he didn't seem especially enthusiastic about it. His words wooed and he kissed a few times in the hospital, but he hadn't once touched. Just now he'd pulled her hand away when she'd tried to touch him, which he'd never done before. Normally he'd be using any opportunity right now to catch up on marital bliss after being celibate this long.

Her brow furrowed. And then it all made sense. They'd gone through the burn victim phases of recovery: the survival phase and grief of not being sure if he'd recover. He'd gone through the practical phase of trying to get back into daily life and be independent, finally being discharged and now working with a speech therapist and probably going to a physical therapist soon too to gain more neck movement. He'd gone through the appearance phase with the lip surgery and expressing grief to have even his former scars that had less deformity than now - of trying to get back to an appearance that felt more familiar. But no one had prepared him for the sexuality issues that probably hadn't really occurred last time because there hadn't been a girlfriend or wife in the picture.

"It's okay if you don't want me to touch you like that for awhile, Jason. You'll want me to when you're ready." She kissed his cheek. "Even if you touch me, it doesn't mean I have to touch you."

Nervousness flooded his eye, as if trying to figure out if she said this because she'd noticed his difficulty in desiring her. So, he remained silent and observant.

This was new territory to not have any form of encouragement from him - the man who had taught that beauty and sexuality could not be stripped away by assault. Or anything else, for that matter. Her heart beat fast, unsure what to do. Encouraging might push him and cause trust issues, or it might make him feel safer and desired. She bit her lip. "Jay, I don't know what I'm supposed to do - what you want me to do."

"What do you want to do?"

Such a simple question but not the answer expected. She nibbled her lip and searched the white dress shirt covering his chest. Opening her mouth, she drew a breath to suggest he remained clothed but pleasure her - to witness her still being able to desire him. That might push him too hard and be too bold. "I'm not sure if it's the right thing to say."

"Whatever you feel is the right thing to say is right."

Glancing at him, she swallowed down the embarrassment and worry and fingered a button at his chest. She couldn't force her eyes up to meet his, though. "I was going to say that you keep..." Dear heaven, her face burned. "It's too...kinky."

His eyebrow shot up in surprise for a split second before he controlled his expression. "I don't want you to be embarrassed to tell me anything, even if it's something sexual. I can't promise we'll do it, but I won't judge."

She shook her head and buried her face against his shoulder.

He didn't move. And then he blew out a nervous breath. "Alright, we'll be brave together. You tell me what you're thinking and I'll tell you something I'm embarrassed to say."

"No laughing. And you can't act shocked or disgusted." She sat up and laced her fingers with his.

"Ditto."

She looked anywhere but him for a few seconds, mustering up the courage. "Okay. You can keep your clothes on and, um, take mine off and do whatever you want to see that I still want you. And I'll try a blindfold if you don't want me to even look at your face yet during it." She curled her arms up against her bare chest and covered her mouth speaking such taboo.

He blinked. "That's you're big kinkiness? I expected whips or ropes or something way out there." A smile spread across his lips.

"You promised to not laugh!"

"I'm not." The man did not succeed well in smothering a smile. "That's just so innocent and sweet that you think it's so dirty."

"Hush. Your turn."

The smile immediately fell off his face and his breathing picked up in nervousness. "It's not anything like yours. It's been since the surgery a couple weeks ago." His leg bounced up and down with nervousness, thereby bouncing her. "Sorry." He stilled. "I can't...um..."He struggled so much to even say it.

"You can't desire me?" She kept her voice even and soft and understanding.

He blinked and the poor man's face grew as beat red as ever. "It's not you personally. I still think you're beautiful - "

"I know it's not personal, honey."

Pregnant silence filled the air. "How long have you known?"

With a soft shrug, she set her hands on his chest. It was important for a man to not feel judged for it. "I figured it out when you pulled my hand away a few minutes ago. I'm sure it's temporary. Maybe it's some of the drugs that you were on for so long. I read more burn survivor literature while you were in the hospital. Many people have trouble with trying to be intimate again. Your appearance is a bit different than before, so it will take time for you to believe I still think you're sexy, much less feel sexy."

"And that's why you suggested what you did." His lips pressed together. "Emma, I don't know that with your history it's good to - "

"It's not entirely why I mentioned it," she cut in with a small voice. When he didn't respond, she glanced at his surprised expression. "Sometimes I still don't feel normal - like everyone can see what he did. But when you desire me, I feel pretty and sexy and loved." Biting her lip, she gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It feels safe when you're the aggressor sometimes, like you aren't going to let anything hurt me."

He cupped the side of her face and searched her eyes. "I'm always going to try to protect you, Emma. We will try a blindfold for just a few seconds so you don't get frightened. After Olivia wakes up and Ms. Van Hoodie takes her, or tonight."

She nodded, a little nervous for him more than herself. Life had been such a rollercoaster since the wedding that they'd hardly made love. This was a second chance to start over the marriage on the right foot. This time when he'd let her see his face during lovemaking, it'd be romantic and safe for him, like it was meant to be the first time. This time there would be the happily ever after.


	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: I wasn't going to do a fourth story, but someone had a good point that some readers hate having so many chapters in a story. This was a good breaking point.**

 **Sequel is "By the Moonlight, Beauty Blooms."**

 **Thanks for your reviews!**


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